


The Luck of the Irish

by Goldpeaches



Series: The Aidan Show [2]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Rape, Rimming, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 59,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3990895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, “Why me?” Then a voice answers, “Nothing personal... your name just happened to come up.”</i><br/>Set immediately after “Fuck me, I’m Irish”, things are looking quite good for Aidan and Dean, but it never stays that way, does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diabhail fhios a'm cá bhfuil deireadh mo scéil

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as a sequel to [Fuck me, I'm Irish](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1618079) at [Hobbitstory on Livejournal](http://hobbitstory.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I searched all over, but sadly, I couldn't find a native speaking beta reader. Apparently lengthy, rape-torture RPF isn't that popular! I wish someone would have told me before I started writing... ;) Anyway, my point is, it's not beta-read by a native speaker. I'm not a native speaker, so expect some awkwardness... And if you find anything particularly bad in there (actually, I should say “when”) let me know. Please!
> 
> The generous, kind and talented [sra_denvers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sra_danvers/pseuds/sra_danvers) spontaneously made a cover for this story that you can see [here](http://i136.photobucket.com/albums/q196/Goldpeaches/The%20Luck%20of%20the%20Irish_zpsjnj8vxkx.jpg). It is absolutely stunning, so please check it out as well as her other work!

Kisses. Warm and open mouthed on the back of Dean’s neck. Little butterfly kisses that tickle behind his ear and hungry ones with teeth scraping and stubble scratching the skin between his neck and his shoulder. Aidan loves kissing. It is a great way to get things started when he’s with a client and when he is with Dean he feels so connected to him. He could spend all day doing nothing but kiss Dean.

It’s the morning after Adam and Graham’s wedding and it is still too early to be up, really, but Aidan has been up – in every sense of the word – for a while now. He leans over to lick the shell of Dean’s ear playfully and that finally does it. Dean sighs and yawns and stretches and when he moves, the curve of his bum presses pleasantly against Aidan’s hard cock. Yup, he is up all right. 

“Again?” Dean rubs his eyes and squints at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It isn’t even noon yet, and they only stumbled in around five. Drunk and feeling incredibly romantic, they proceeded to have the most _un_ romantic shag since the invention of sex. Aidan accidentally hit Dean in the face twice with his cast and himself once, they had to take a pee break and a snack break, but even clumsy, unromantic and slightly hilarious as it was, it was still pretty damn good.

“Problem?” Aidan mumbles against the spot right between Dean’s shoulder blades. He takes a moment to answer and Aidan knows exactly what he is thinking. They should talk, they should have a discussion about the things they want. They should sit down and be adults about this. Give this thing they are doing no chance to fuck with their heads. Before they actually fuck. Again. But Dean is warm and sleepy and this talk isn’t going to go anywhere.

“No, no problem,” Dean says and tries to turn around, but Aidan stops him, rolls him onto his stomach and pins him to the bed.

“Good. Because I’m not done here.” He nudges Dean’s legs apart and climbs between them. “I’m not even close to done.”

He licks down Dean’s spine and follows the wet path the created with his hands. He rubs them over Dean’s shoulders and his sides and when he reaches his ass, he slaps it experimentally and, in return, gets a delightful “hngh”, slightly muffled by the pillow.

“How come you’re so cheerful? We’re supposed to hang around all day and nurse our hangovers.”

“I’m still drunk,” Aidan explains with inappropriate joy in his voice. “And I want to kiss you and lick you and make you come.” 

He can hear Dean inhale sharply, but he doesn’t know if that comes from his words or from his hands cupping and squeezing his arse. It doesn’t matter either way. Aidan enjoys those little sounds, no matter what causes them. 

Dean squirms a little, when Aidan spreads him open and blows cool air against the newly exposed skin.

“It’s okay,” he says reassuringly. He remembers his first experience with rimming very vividly. It made him feel vulnerable and excited at the same time, but mostly, it made him squeamish. There is something off-limits about the butt as it is and no matter how many times you touch it, finger it, fuck it, it doesn’t go away. When he first came to terms with being gay, Aidan discovered slowly that the asshole is fun and kind of underappreciated and not nearly as dirty or disgusting as people make it out to be. Still, that doesn’t mean that it suddenly made all the top ten lists for great places to kiss. So for someone to actually want to do it is a very frightening concept. He gets that, but once you get over that, it’s amazing and that’s how he wants to make Dean feel. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

He runs his fingers up and down Dean’s crack with feather light touches that make goose bumps spread over his skin. 

“Okay.” Dean nods, because his voice is barely more than a whisper. Aidan smiles and places another enthusiastic kiss on Dean’s tailbone. He makes himself more comfortable between Dean’s legs and takes his time to ease Dean and himself into the situation. He has been on the receiving end of a rimjob a few times, but he has only ever done it once before. It is incredibly difficult to do it with a condom rolled over his tongue and the act is so much more intimate than he really ever wants to be with any client. 

He goes all in, heart thumping in his chest, when he is sure that Dean is ready and relaxed. He plants a wet kiss against Dean’s hole and hears his breath hitch in response.

“Good?”

“Wrong. Very, very wrong,” Dean replies. “But, yeah, good.” Like a cat that has woken from a nap, Dean stretches his arms out in front of him and raises his arse a little for better access. Aidan follows the gorgeous curve of his spine with his eyes before going back to the task at hand with another kiss. Long and lingering this time, his tongue trailing around Dean’s rim until he is rewarded with a moan. He reaches around to curl his fingers around Dean’s cock, while he continues to lick and suck his hole. Rimming is so much more intimate than fucking. It’s a statement and Aidan wants his actions to speak loud and clear. He wants Dean, he wants him for more than one night. This is his way of showing him and Dean seems to enjoy the unspoken commitment.

He can feel Dean become more comfortable and more confident to push back against Aidan’s face and fuck into his slow-stroking hand. His spine arches beautifully from his efforts to do both at the same time and he seems to have lost all control over the sounds that come out of his mouth, which makes him even hotter. 

Aidan knows that he has him on the verge of a trembling, head-spinning, toe-curling orgasm and just when Dean manages to get out a breathless “Oh God!” Aidan speeds up his stroking and pushes his tongue in and Dean over the edge with it.

He comes for ages and then collapses onto the bed, just as Aidan finishes off his masterpiece with more little kisses, up his back, until he ends up at Dean’s ear where he started.

He brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair slow and calming to give them both a chance to catch their breath. 

“You okay?”

Dean turns onto his side and nods slowly, thoughtfully, as if he still isn’t quite sure what just happened. There is a lovely blush spread over his face and Aidan just wants to kiss those cheeks as well. Dean drops his forehead against Aidan’s chest and nods again, more convinced this time.

“That was amazing.”

“Yeah?” Aidan gently pulls on the hair at the back of Dean’s head to make him look up at him. “Your first time?”

“What do you think?” Dean laughs out loud. “Sorry. The idea that Megan would go anywhere near there even with her hands is hilarious.”

“Well, I don’t really know what straight people do in bed. And Luke could have been a kinky bastard underneath that clean-cut, well-dressed exterior.” 

“It was the first time.” Dean runs his hand up and down Aidan’s flank. “And it was mind-blowing.”

“Good. That’s good, because I intend to blow your mind a lot more often from now on. If you let me.”

“I’d like that.” Dean smiles. “Would you, uhm, like me to return the favour?”

Aidan notices the hesitation in Dean’s voice and he doesn’t blame him. You have to be absolutely ready to go for a rimjob. He knows that if he asked for it, Dean would flip him onto his stomach and turn him into a whimpering, moaning mess, as a favour, but Aidan doesn’t want that. He wants Dean to _want_ to do it, when he is ready.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

Dean mumbles a few words along the line of “it’s not you, it’s me” and ends up saying “thanks”. Aidan thinks he should be offended. “Thank you for not making me lick your ass”, has kind of a weird ring to it, but he is sure that Dean didn’t mean it like that. And anyway, Dean is moving down his chest now, which is much more promising than a pointless argument over a poor choice of words.

Aidan reaches into the top drawer of his nightstand to fish out a condom. He hands it to Dean, hoping he would take the hint. Aidan has been hard for quite a while and doesn’t want to spend any more time on foreplay. Dean understands and thankfully gets right to it with charming enthusiasm. He rolls the condom on and once his kisses reach Aidan’s pelvic bone, he opens his mouth around the head of his dick. He lets it slide in a little and wraps his hand around the base. Aidan closes his eyes and enjoys the soft, warm heat on his cock.

Dean sucks him slowly at first, going down a little and then pulling off again to work his tongue around the head until Aidan starts rolling his hips and moans encouragingly. 

He increases his speed bobbing his head up and down a little more sloppily, until Aidan’s cock hits the back of his throat, making him gag.

 _”That cock too big for you, slut?”_ Aidan’s fingers curl into his own hair painfully and Dean pulls off, using his hand to stroke for a moment. After giving himself time to breathe, Dean tries again, letting the length go all the way to the back of his throat, until his completely untrained gag-reflex kicks in.

_”Swallow this cock, bitch, don’t puke on it!”_

_He’s gagging. He can’t breathe._

“Nnngh.” Aidan twists his hips away as best as he can, trapped between the mattress and Dean.

“You’re so hot,” Dean whispers admiringly.

_”You’re disgusting. You are a disgusting, filthy slut.”_

Dean ducks his head down again, and Aidan can tell that he is determined to make this the best blowjob ever, but Dean’s body protests against the intrusion with more gagging and coughing. It makes Aidan’s stomach turn.

 _He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe._

He can’t breathe! Aidan can’t breathe. He can’t.

“Dean, stop, please.” Aidan manages and struggles to get away. He scrambles all the way to the head of the bed until he is sitting up against the headboard with his legs drawn up protectively in front of his body. His heart is thumping as if he just finished a marathon and he sucks in a few shallow breaths, relieved that he can. “Can we do something else? Please?”

“Shit, are you okay?” Dean furrows his brow in concern. “Am I doing it really wrong?” 

“Sorry.” Aidan covers his eyes with his cast, the one leftover reminder why he is so fucked up, and forces himself to inhale deeply and exhale slowly. He can’t believe this is happening. Now, when he thought he could finally be happy. “It’s not your fault.”

Considering that everything was fine before he started, Aidan can understand that Dean doesn’t believe him. He knows he owes him an explanation, but it is just so painful to explain something he never wants to talk about again.

“It’s stupid,” Aidan says after a long while. He uncovers his eyes and relaxes into a more approachable position. This is Dean, after all. He _has_ to be able to trust Dean. “It’s the sound.”

“The sound?”

“The choking sound. It sounds like the video of me…” Aidan gestures towards his broken arm to save himself from going into any more detail. “Hearing it now, it… I... I didn’t think this would happen. It shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“No! I’m sorry!” Dean looks genuinely upset. “Shit, I could punch myself. I thought you were enjoying it!”

“I was enjoying it until, well…”Aidan says with a feeble attempt at a smile and a little shrug. His attackers took too much from him already and now they are ruining getting his dick sucked as well. He could just scream. And punch something.

“Do you want me to try again? I can be more careful.” Dean strokes Aidan’s thigh, but there is nothing sexy about it. It feels more like your mother trying to comfort you after you fell off your bike as a kid.

“A careful blowjob? That sounds sad.” Aidan tries another smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He peels off the condom and drops it in the bin. “And I think the ship has sailed for now, anyway.” 

“We’ll try again. We’ll get you earplugs if we have to.” He knows that Dean does his best to sound positive and reassuring, and Aidan laughs at his suggestion, genuinely, but there is no denying that they are both freaked out. “I don’t think we’re going to get much more sleep,” Dean sounds very regretful about it, “so how about I make us some coffee?”

Dean gives Aidan’s thigh one final squeeze. He rolls off the bed, but Aidan catches his arm before he can get up fully.

“Promise you’ll come back? Not like last time?”

“I promise I will come back.” He raises Aidan’s hand to his lips and gives his index finger a kiss. “Unless you have another contract for some amazing offer lying around that you’re not telling me about.”

Every other day Aidan would have called Dean’s attention to the amazing offer right there on the bed, but he is still upset and not in the mood to be cute.

“None that I know of,” he says instead and watches Dean leave the room. He gets up on his hands and knees and crawls to the edge of the bed, trying to peek around the corner into the kitchen. He needs to see that Dean is actually just making coffee instead of grabbing his stuff and running for the hills. Not that Aidan would really blame him if he did. No one wants to spend their time with someone so massively fucked up. The nightmares about his rape are one thing, but now there are bonus flashbacks during the day. Then there are years of prostitution, years of strangers doing whatever the hell they want with him, that is bound to have left him with some issues. Something a therapist could really dig into and savour for years. It is exactly the reason why Aidan cancelled the appointment with the psychiatrist. He doesn’t need to bring up everything and talk about it. Some things are best left alone. His point remains though, he is messed up and sure wouldn’t want to spend time with himself if he didn’t have to. 

And yet, Dean doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. Aidan can hear him puttering about the kitchen, humming, like it is no big deal and it’s a mystery how Dean can be so at peace with everything. Maybe it’s a Kiwi thing, but then again, maybe Dean’s on to something. Maybe there is nothing to worry about. Dean’s the relationship expert between the two of them, he should know. The fact that he doesn’t seem to be freaking out rubs off on Aidan and the longer he listens to the coffee machine gurgling and cups and spoons clattering and Dean humming, the calmer he feels. 

Aidan scoots back the middle of the bed. If Dean’s positive attitude rubs off on him even from another room, he should do everything he can to make Dean want to stick around. He used to be like that, optimistic and cheerful, but he finds it more and more challenging to keep his attitude up when he is alone with his thoughts. He finds it much easier to be happy when someone else is around to force him out of his cocoon and out of his own head, but with Dean there is another element to it. _Dean_ makes him happy. Not Dean’s company, just… just Dean.

 

When he returns Dean has put on underwear, Aidan is disappointed to see, but he carries two steaming mugs, which is at least some consolation. Dean hands him a cup and tosses a pair of shorts he picked up from the floor in Aidan’s direction. 

“No distractions,” he explains and Aidan can’t argue with that. Dean sits down on the bed with his legs crossed and looks at Aidan expectantly with his pale blue eyes. 

They talk. It is a little slow and a lot awkward at first and Aidan wishes this was as quick and painless as his first and only relationship talk, fifteen years ago with Róisín Keohane.

“So, are you my boyfriend?” she asked as they walked from the chem lab to double math – a torture unlike any other. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to look cool and indifferent, the way all fifteen year old boys do.

“Okay,” he said, secretly excited, though. “Are you my girlfriend?” He felt like he should check.

“Yeah,” she replied and slipped her hands in his.

The other boys didn’t give Aidan too much grief about holding hands with a girl in public, because for one, Róisín was one of the prettier girls. But more importantly, rumour was that she got drunk on Shelly Dover’s sweet sixteenth’s and allowed Shelly’s brother – unfortunately named Ben – to touch her boobs. _Under her top_. Therefore it was okay for Aidan to date her, according to the boys. If anything, it made him cooler. The girls had a different set of rules for selecting the appropriate boyfriend, but Aidan had two things going for him. Aside from the odd pimple he didn’t have terribly bad skin, unlike a lot of the other boys. The staple diet of burgers, pizza and fizzy drinks really took a toll on some of his friends, but he got lucky there. The other thing working in his favour is that he kissed a girl before, during a game of spin the bottle and she described his kissing as adequate, which qualified him as acceptable boyfriend material. So it was settled.

Sadly, things with Dean aren’t as easy - to be fair, the stakes are slightly higher, this time around – but Dean is taking the lead. Once again, it scares Aidan how open and honest Dean can speak about his feelings. It is something he isn’t sure he can do himself. He never had to and he doesn’t know how to think “we” instead of “I”. Most of all, he was never responsible for someone else’s happiness. Not for more than a few hours, anyway, and it terrifies him. He has to learn from scratch how to be in a relationship and he is bound to make mistakes. He just needs to know that Dean won’t give up on him if, no, _when_ he fucks up.

He can’t say that, though. He can’t. 

He can’t fuck this up if he wants Dean to stick around, so he keeps his mouth shut and listens instead.

“What I am trying to say is,” Dean finishes a monologue about his ex-almost-fiancé and the shock and pain and devastation of discovering that she cheated on him. “I know what you do isn’t cheating, but it’s so close and that doesn’t make it easier to accept it. I’d lie if I said that I’m totally cool with your job, but I want to try.” He reaches over and takes Aidan’s hand in his. “I really do, but I can’t promise that I won’t get upset or jealous sometimes.”

“I won’t talk about it to you,” Aidan suggests. Of course, being an escort is the biggest obstacle in their path, but he can at least chip away at that one and make it a little smaller.

“No. That’s exactly the opposite of what I want. I don’t want to wonder if you just were with a client when we see each other and I don’t want to wonder what you did with them. I don’t want it to be a secret.”

Aidan scratches his head uncomfortably.

“Are you sure?” That Dean wants to know if he was working is pretty understandable, but to tell him what he did with a client seems to be a little _dangerous_. What good would it do Dean to know that some guy with the biggest dick fucked Aidan and made him come loads? It just… it isn’t the kind of information you would want to share with your boyfriend.

“Well, I don’t need a written report of every appointment, but if I ask you about it…”

“I’ll tell you,” Aidan agrees and tilts his head to the side. “And you kind of want that report, don’t you?”

Dean laughs and shakes his head.

“I just want you to be honest and… a fair warning. If you fall in love with someone else, I want to be prepared.”

Aidan barely has time to put his empty coffee cup aside before he tackle-hugs Dean. The thought that Dean is honestly worried about Aidan, who never loved anyone, falling for someone else is just so touching.

“I would never do that. My first rule, remember? Never fall in love with a client.”

“I thought your first rule was everything that goes in gets a condom.” Dean rolls them around so that he is on top. 

“Yeah, that too.” He pauses to think. “So I have two number one rules, no one said I can’t! And, come on, give me some credit, I tried really hard not to fall in love with you.” 

“That’s true,” Dean agrees, surely remembering all the “will they, won’t they?” drama as well as Aidan does. Honestly, if they hadn’t run into each other at the gallery Dean would have been nothing more but a pleasant memory by now. 

“I’m really glad I did, though.” Yeah, it’s cheesy, but he’s looking into Dean’s eyes and that makes him feel all warm and fuzzy and besides, it is the truth.

“Me too,” Dean agrees and flops on the mattress next to Aidan. The talk is over, they survived and Aidan can’t help but check one thing.

“So, are you my boyfriend?”


	2. Weapon of Dean-Destruction

“Wanna come over later? I want to show you something.”

“Sure.” Dean’s reply comes almost instantly, followed by a second message. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it before.”

Aidan grins at the phone. He loves that Dean can take almost anything and make it sound dirty.

“Pretty sure you haven’t. Not recently.” He slips the phone back into his pocket just as the nurse finishes cutting up his cast.

“How does that feel?” she asks, as she pries it open and carefully frees his arm. Aidan bends his arm experimentally and flexes his wrist for the first time in weeks and it feels like a ton of weight has been taken off. 

“Brilliant,” he says, but the smile is a little fake. He is, of course, thrilled about getting rid of the cast, but on the other hand, there is a little bit of odd apprehension mixed into his delight. 

“That’s great. I’ll just go and grab Victoria for you to give you the thumbs up before you go.” She gives him a smile as she leaves. He has been coming to this surgery for his regular check-ups ever since he moved to London and all the nurses know him by now. They usually even find a cup of coffee for him. 

While the nurse is gone to get the doctor, he holds his arms next to each other.

The right one is strong and healthy with a nice golden tan, but the left one looks a lot skinnier and weaker. The skin is pale and angry red and it looks like it has been rubbed raw in some places. He expected as much, since he had been feeling it happen for a while.

The doctor plops down onto her little wheeled stool and after the obligatory friendly chit-chat, takes Aidan’s arm with a frown.

“I don’t like this at all,” she says after a short examination. “We could have taken the cast off weeks ago. Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Aidan doesn’t have a good answer for that. He fully intended to get rid of the annoying, sweaty, uncomfortable cast as quickly as possible. He had been counting the days for the mandatory six week healing period, but once the time was up, he couldn’t do it. It was paradox, because on the one hand he wanted to put the entire incident behind him and move on. Forget that it ever happened. On the other hand, he couldn’t forget. He had hoped that, as his body healed, his mind would do the same, but he is still regularly experiencing nightmares and often finds himself anxious and nervous during the day. Somehow he convinced himself, that he had to be back to normal once the cast was off, but once he realised that it wasn’t going to happen, he pushed getting the cast off back again and again until he felt like tearing it off himself. 

“I forgot, I guess,” he says sheepishly. He can see that Victoria doesn’t buy it, but he is glad that she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she explains how they are going to treat the broken skin and what kind of exercises he could do to help with any stiffness in the wrist.

She then moves on to check his shoulder and is quite pleased with the on-going improvement. 

“I’m sorry to say this, but you can pop your t-shirt back on,” she says with a hardly noticeable wink.

“Does your husband know that you use your job as an excuse to check out younger men?” Aidan laughs as he wrestles with his t-shirt. 

“It’s so endearing that you think you’re still young,” she replies with her sweetest smile and sets her glasses down on her desk. “I still remember your first visit. _Then_ you were young.”

“Oh, God, yes,” Aidan agrees and they both know that they are not necessarily talking about age. He was just so naïve and inexperienced when he moved to London. It was described to him as the Promised Land, where men paid outrageous rates for a good prostitute and everything was so much easier than trying to work in Dublin, always concerned that someone would find out.

London was not at all what he expected. Yes, there were men who paid a lot for good service, but back then, Aidan wasn’t good and the city was eating him alive. With rent and the general expenses of living in the city, he survived mostly on instant noodles for 11p apiece and the occasional meal a client paid for. Things got so bad that he couldn’t pay the gas bill and had the heat in his shoebox-sized flat turned off Mid-December.

It was only a matter of time before Aidan caught a flu that wouldn’t go away and left him too sick to work and that is how he ended up at Victoria’s surgery, feeling and looking more dead than alive and, embarrassingly, fainted while the nurse took a blood sample. 

“You gave me some tough love back then.” He scratches his cheek a little embarrassed about how bad he had let things become. Sometimes he thinks that he would never have gotten out of the downward spiral if it hadn’t been for her very stern speech. “All right, are we done?”

She looks at him thoughtfully for a moment.

“Actually, why don’t you have a seat for just a second?”

“Wow, that sounds so serious.” He hops back onto the exam table anyway. 

“It is time for another dose of that tough love,” she says and seems to consider her words very carefully before she continues. “I am concerned about you. You…”

“I’m fine,” Aidan interrupts and he knows that the reassuring look on his face is obviously fake. Victoria knows it as well and simply carries on.

“You look like hell, you were asleep in my waiting room and this,” she takes Aidan’s arm again, “this borders on self harm.”

Aidan opens his mouth to defend himself, but he doesn’t know what to say. He knew that the cast was hurting him and he got a perverse enjoyment out of the feeling. At least it distracted him for a while. He just never thought about giving it a name. Self harm, that was something sixteen year old girls did to get attention, wasn’t it?

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he mutters defensively. “I really am fine.”

He loves Victoria as his doctor. He values her opinion and feels comfortable to talk to her about all health issues, but he isn’t going to tell her the reason why he kept the cast for so long and he isn’t going to tell her that he has had nightmares, scary dreams that left him crying out in his sleep, thrashing around in bed and waking up in a blind panic, soaked in sweat and with his heart pounding in his throat.

It’s not like she, personally, can help him with that. All would do to do is recommend a therapist and that is the last thing he wants. He cancelled the appointment he made with Adam’s therapist weeks ago, because he just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He can handle this, he just needs everyone to leave him alone.

“To tell you the truth, I have a boyfriend and we’ve been spending so much time together that I forgot to come in. He keeps me up at night as well, so that’s the explanation for falling asleep.” He knows that his tone is getting a little snappy, but he can’t help it. 

Victoria doesn’t buy a word of what he is saying. She is smart enough not to push him further this time and changes the subject instead.

“A boyfriend, huh? Good for you.” She asks him a few questions about Dean, reminds him that he can always talk to her and sends him on his way.

 

“Going to run a bit late. Got something I want to give you.”

“Pretty sure you’ve given it to me before.” Aidan texts back. “Plenty of times. Not complaining.”

Before Dean, Aidan would have wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the sofa with a microwave lasagne and a beer as soon as he got home from running errands in the hot and crowded city filled with confused, bewildered tourists, each clad in shorts, with the obligatory sandals and socks combo and an oversized rucksack, staring uncomprehendingly at their tube maps.

He still wants to do that, but he finds that being in a relationship isn’t as life-changing as he initially thought. He can still sprawl onto the couch, but the lasagne is homemade – from a kit, but still a step up from Tesco’s frozen one – and there is someone to do it with. And talk to and rub his back and have sex with. Lots and lots of sex. Real “I’m horny, let’s do it” sex and none of the “I paid for you, now perform” stuff.

It is a mystery to him, why he hasn’t figured this out sooner. He thinks that all the men he sees that whine about their messed up relationships, their partners and lives have something to do with it. He can’t count how many times guys have told him that they can’t wait to get to work in the morning and dread to come home to their demanding partners and disappointing children every day.

Maybe it’s because he is new to the whole concept of love and relationships, but Aidan genuinely can’t see that happen with him and Dean. He loves spending time with Dean, not just the dating and going out and having sex, but other things as well. He likes to sit on the kitchen counter and annoy Dean while he puts away the groceries and he likes it when Dean is the first thing he sees in the morning. Even when they went out the night before and he is a hungover mess. He likes that Dean points out to him that he is a hungover mess and that he forces Aidan to fold and put away his clothes when they are dry instead of leaving them on the line until he needs them. 

Basically, he likes Dean. 

A lot. 

 

He uses the extra time he has before Dean arrives to make sure his flat is perfectly clean. Ben and Richard invited themselves to come around tomorrow to talk about the job and check if his flat is suitable to have clients over. Aidan thinks that it is a bit much, since he has been working out of his flat for years, but he has a lot of respect for their enthusiasm and commitment.

It is just after half eight when Dean finally arrives. Aidan opens the door for him and holds out both hands in front of him. He has been waiting to show Dean his cast-free arm all day and the reaction is exactly what he hoped for.

“No way!” Dean looks from Aidan’s arms to his face, beaming. “It’s gone!” He pushes Aidan’s hands aside to give him an enthusiastic hug-kiss-combo and then steps back again. He takes Aidan’s left arm gently, as if he is afraid to break it again, and inspects it. “Excellent! The weapon of Dean destruction is finally gone.” Dean had given that nickname to the cast, after the many times Aidan accidentally smacked him with it. He even came up with the theory that Aidan was a trained killer out to get him. “And you got a haircut!”

Aidan runs his hand through his hair. He has to start taking better care of his appearance again, now that there is nothing stopping him from going to go back to work.

“I also got my teeth cleaned,” Aidan adds hoping for another kiss as a reward for doing well and Dean doesn’t disappoint.

“Finally you’re all healed.” Dean gives Aidan’s arm one last stroke and laces their fingers together. 

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees. His arm will look as good as new in a few weeks, when it is strong and tanned again. His shoulder still needs a bit of attention, but he has regained a good range of motion and the pain level is low to non-existent most of the time, but he doesn’t feel as happy about it as he should. His outside is back to normal, but he isn’t sure about the inside, yet. 

He wants to lead Dean into the living room, but Dean stops him.

“I’ve got something for you, remember?” Dean asks and he actually looks a little nervous now and Aidan really just wants to kiss him, because he reminds him so much of the Dean he first met. “It’s around the corner here.”

Aidan follows Dean into the hallway to find a board leaning against the wall, wrapped up in an old paint-stained blanket.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t like it.” Dean continues while twisting his fingers. His curiosity gets the better of Aidan and while Dean babbles on about acrylic paint and painting technique, Aidan unwraps the canvas. It is a sunset scene in shades of purple, peach, orange and grey. It makes him inhale sharply from the emotion the painting evokes immediately.

“It’s the Ha’Penny bridge,” he grins and sits down cross-legged on the floor to look at the picture closely. He crossed the river Liffey on that bridge more times than he can count. Clutching his mother’s hand as a child, holding on to a friend after a night out. Sometimes he stopped in the middle of the bridge to watch a boat on the river below and sometimes he raced across to find shelter from the rain. “It’s beautiful!”

“So it is Dublin. Good,” Dean says with a relieved laugh. “I’ve never been there, so I had to rely on Google to find pictures.”

“Then we’ll have to go sometime,” Aidan suggests without taking his eyes of the painting. “It’s stunning. Can I really keep it?”

“No, I just dragged it around to show you… Of course you can keep it. I mean if you want it. I thought that maybe it’s time to retire Big Ben.”

He is, of course, talking about the appalling painting in Aidan’s living room that looks like it has been made by a three year old on an acid-trip. Aidan has wanted to replace it ever since he noticed that it really seemed to offend the artist in Dean, but he never got around to actually doing it.

“Yeah, let’s do that!” He jumps back on his feet and turns around to Dean. He shoves him against the wall gently and pushes his body into Dean’s, so close that their noses are almost touching.

“We are going to hang the painting and then, to thank you properly…”

“You don’t have to thank…” Dean starts, but Aidan shuts him up with sharp roll of his hips.

“To thank you properly,” he repeats, “I am going to do things to you, you never even dreamed of.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean whispers and Aidan can feel him push back against him.

“I’m going to throw you on the bed and make you come again… and again… and again… and…” His face comes closer and closer with every word until their lips finally meet for a heated kiss.

“Again?” Dean finished with a smirk.

“Hmm,” Aidan agrees. “And then two more times.”

“But,” Dean furrows his brow as if he is thinking really hard, “why are we still standing in the hallway, then?”

Aidan thinks that it is an excellent question. They pick up the painting and carry it into the living room.

Of course, the picture doesn’t get hung until the next morning.


	3. Congratulations, you’re still in the running

It has taken Aidan an embarrassingly long time to piece together that it is just after half two in the afternoon, not at night when he wakes up. His sleep has been interrupted by nightmares so many times lately that he blinks at the alarm clock uncomprehendingly for a while before the light sneaking in through gaps in the curtains convinces him that it is truly the middle of the day. He can’t remember the last time got a good night’s sleep and he certainly can’t remember when he last slept into the early afternoon.

Any other day this would have been great. A small victory, but not today.

"For feck's sake! Why?" he cusses and when he turns to get out of bed, he finds his cheek glued to the pillowcase and that's not even the worst of it. His entire body, as far as he can tell, is covered in something sweet smelling that has dried, but still feels sticky. 

He makes a sound of disapproval and peels his face off the pillow. As soon as his feet hit the ground he regrets getting up at all. He would be better off staying in bed for the rest of the day, he thinks, when he realises that he stepped into a spoon in a little lake of melted vanilla ice-cream.

Yes, he remembers. It seemed like a good idea at the time to cool down between rounds of enthusiastic fucking, by licking ice cream off each other. That certainly explains a lot. 

He doesn't even want to take a good look around the half-dark room, because he is pretty sure that while he and Dean were _otherwise engaged_ , a hurricane must have come through. There is no other way to logically explain the mess of clothes, condoms, toys and food in the room he just painstakingly cleaned until it was immaculate. 

Any other day Aidan would have laughed and wondered how two people can make such a mess in just a few hours, but today Ben and Richard come over for their home inspection and Aidan truly wants to make a good impression. He has looked up to both men professionally and personally for years and he wants to reassure them that they made the right choice by putting their trust in him. 

He wipes his foot on a t-shirt he finds on the floor, picks up the pair of denim shorts he wore yesterday and puts them on without bothering with underwear. 

"Deeean?" 

"In here!"

He follows Dean's voice into the kitchen.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" he complains and feels very filthy indeed, next to Dean who is freshly showered and neat as a pin and wearing a t-shirt stolen from Aidan's wardrobe. 

"Because I'm not your mother," Dean starts, earning himself a frown from Aidan. "And because I'm awesome. I'm not sure if you’ve looked into the mirror lately, but soon you wouldn’t need any special effects make up to star in 'The Walking Dead'..." He trails off for Aidan to get the point. “And good morning to you, too.”

Aidan opens his mouth to argue, but mumbles an apology instead. It isn't fair to blame Dean or snap at him for something that is no one but Aidan's own fault. He always played it cool, when talking about the visit, instead of letting on that he is really anxious for everything to go smoothly, and Dean might be quite perceptive for a guy, but he isn’t a mindreader.

Aidan takes his frustration out on the coffee machine, by stuffing the filter into the basket, slamming the lid and stabbing at the buttons with his finger.

"It's just, there is so much to do." He glares at the first drops of coffee that drip into the pot until Dean comes up from behind and hugs him. The stubble on his cheeks scratches pleasantly against Aidan's back.

"Then let me help."

"You can't. I have to take a shower and you can't… efficiently… help with that," Aidan starts, with Dean nodding in agreement.

"You're sticky," he whispers into the grove between Aidan's shoulder blades. "What else?"

"Shopping. And clean up the bedroom." After another worried look at the time - it is quarter to three - Aidan stares back at the coffee machine as if pure willpower would get the coffee brewed quicker. "And you can't help, because you don't know what we need and you don't know where things belong in the bedroom."

"I know where things belong in the bedroom," Dean says. Aidan can hear the smile in his voice, but doesn't feel like joking and doesn't take the bait. "Just give me the shopping list. I'll go. You take your shower, make yourself pretty. When I'm back we clean up the bedroom together. It's only fair, since we're both guilty of making a mess in the first place. It's going to be fine."

Aidan finally gives up his staring match with the coffee machine and turns around in Dean's arms. He looks at him for a moment, once again admiring Dean's laid back attitude and his ability to come up with a completely manageable plan where all Aidan could see was mountain of problems. He feels a tad silly for being so distraught. Then again, Dean's entire future doesn't depend on this meeting. If he fucks this up, what other options does he have? Work independently, find another agency? He tried both and neither option seemed to work well for him.

"Just one slight problem. There is no shopping list. I never make one. I know what I need when I see it."

"That," Dean sighs, "explains so much." He finds a pen and an unopened piece of mail addressed "to the occupier". "What are you waiting for? Start writing."

Aidan does as he is told and starts scribbling the things he knows he needs on the envelope. Ben and Richard are coming over for tea, so he definitely needs tea. And milk. And honey. He has no idea how the two men take their tea and he doesn't remember, even though he must have stared at them stirring their cups a hundred times, during those dreadful meetings at Iago's house. Maybe they prefer coffee, he thinks. At least there is no chance he will ever run low on that. The upside of not having a shopping list is that he always returns home with a bag of coffee, the downside, of course is that he tends to forget paper towels, bread or anything that isn't coffee, honestly.

When he notices that Dean is reading over his shoulder, he adds ICE CREAM in big letters and underlines it twice. He can feel Dean smile against his back and then, ever so slightly, his teeth nibbling on the skin between his neck and shoulder. 

"I like the way you think," he says. "How do you feel about strawberries?"

"I should really start to eat healthier," Aidan ponders, trying to sound serious, while Dean’s hands slide inside his jeans. He hmms appreciatively at the absence of underwear.

"Whipped cream?"

"But really not too healthy."

Aidan twists away to the side to discourage Dean's affections. There is no time for that now. When he thinks he is finished with the list, he scrawls “18.94£” on the bottom of the paper and hands it to Dean.

“You’re off,” Dean says after skimming the list. “It’s going to be more than twenty.”

“That’s not the total, that’s my PIN, you Muppet.” 

“You want me to take your card?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Aidan doesn’t understand why Dean is looking at him with huge, starry manga eyes. He doesn’t have a lot of cash on him and it doesn’t seem appropriate to make Dean pay, even if he offered to pay him back. Since Aidan doesn’t expect Dean to clear his bank account and run for it, it is just so much more convenient to simply let Dean use his card. 

“You really…” Dean looks at Aidan as if he is the most astonishing thing he has ever seen and it is becoming a little creepy. He also wonders how the sentence ended in Dean’s head. You really trust me? You really love me? You really want me to go out in this heat to shop? 

“Yeah,” Aidan replies to all of the unfinished questions.

 

“Dean, where are the biscuits?” Aidan peers into the plastic shopping bag on the kitchen table. 

“Which biscuits?” Dean asks and snatches the bag away from Aidan to unpack it. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, I did. It was on the list.”

Dean sighs heavily and pulls the shopping list out of his back pocket with an air of exasperation.

“There” Aidan says triumphantly, pointing.

“Cleoc Digtiv,” Dean reads, stringing together the legible letters. “What is that?”

“Chocolate Digestives,” Aidan explains, but it doesn’t seem to clarify anything for Dean.

“I have no idea what you are trying to tell me,” he says. Their different backgrounds have, at times, ranged from hilarious to a complete breakdown in communication between them. From Dean searching for the “hot press” all over the flat without realising that he was simply looking for the boiler cupboard, to Aidan flat out refusing to speak to Dean for half a day over rugby. This, Aidan thinks, has the beginnings of another prime example.

He reaches for the biscuit tin on top of the cupboard and finds the remainders of one crumpled Digestive inside. 

“Ah!” Dean’s face lights up with understanding. “Yeah, those are great.”

“They are,” Aidan agrees, “that is why I wanted them.” He looks at Dean expectantly, counting on his problem solving skills, to fix this crisis.

“Sorry,” he says and continues to put away the shopping. “I’m sure there is something else you can put on the table. Like this.” He finds a half-empty bag of M&M’s. “Just put them in a bowl and it’ll be all right.”

Aidan stares at Dean for a moment, knowing he has to say something, but not quite sure where to start in the face of so much wrongness. Having tea without a biscuit is simply not done and it is possibly bordering on offensive, to serve someone a cup of tea and refuse them the pleasure of a dark or milk chocolate covered Digestive. The only thing that would make the situation worse rapidly is substituting the biscuit with M&M’s. On the other hand, he might be overreacting and hanging on to a tradition and subsequently turn into his own mother who always put way too much thought into the things that should and shouldn’t be done, simply because it has always been that way or because doing otherwise would upset the neighbours.

“We’ll just leave it.”

“You’re angry,” Dean observes. “I’ll go and get them now, how about that?”

“No. It’ll be fine. And I’m not angry.” He tells himself again that none of this is Dean’s fault and that he is only trying to help, so he changes the subject the only way he knows how. “But you can make it up to me later, anyway.” 

“You’re impossible, you know that? I might die if you come anywhere near me for a week after last night.”

“Yeah,” Aidan says thoughtfully, smiling at the memory of the previous night. He had made good on his promise to thank Dean for the painting until Dean begged him for a break. It was a good night. “But let’s be real, there are worse ways to go and if I remember correctly, _you_ had your hands down my pants before.”

“Or lack thereof…” 

They get interrupted by the doorbell. The sound makes Aidan’s shoulders tense up ever so slightly and wish that the entire thing was over already.

“Good?” He takes a step back from Dean and gestures at himself. He is wearing a t-shirt with horizontal stripes he isn’t sure about. He prefers plain t-shirts black or white, if possible, but after Dean had hinted several times that cornflower blue and white stripes would look good on Aidan, he surrendered. Dean is the artist, after all.

“Hot,” Dean says reassuringly and gives Aidan a quick kiss. “As soon as that door closes behind them, I’m going to jump your bones and make you forget all about this day, I promise. But for now, go get ‘em.”

Aidan presses the buzzer and waits by the door for them to come up. He is truly grateful that Dean is there for moral support. They briefly discussed whether he should be or not, and had come to the agreement that it might look unprofessional, but when Ben called to confirm the appointment, he mentioned that he and Richard were looking forward to meet Dean and that settled it. 

Aidan expected to see both of his new employers, but Ben comes up the stairs alone, wearing dark jeans and a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looks great and is warm and friendly as always, telling Aidan that it is good to see him again and that he looks well.

“Richard is really sorry that he can’t be here. There is a, uhm, substantial problem with the plumbing in our new office. Someone may have drilled into the wall too deeply and hit a pipe.” Ben scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “We decided it was better that he handled it. Well, he decided.”

Aidan is a little disappointed that Richard isn’t here, because he is always happy to see him. He is Aidan’s straight guy crush. On the other hand, one of them is a lot easier to handle and Ben is chatty and seems to be determined to make this entire thing as pleasant as possible.

“Sounds awkward,” Aidan gives Ben a sympathetic smile and shows him in. “This is my boyfriend, Dean.” He feels incredibly proud of himself for getting far enough into a relationship to be able to introduce someone as “his boyfriend”. Who would have thought?

“Sorry, my hands are wet,” Dean says. He wipes them on his jeans before he shakes Ben’s. Aidan finds it odd at first, but when he follows them both into the living room he can see the slight limp in his step. He knows that limp and he knows that it will go away, once the body adjusts to the butt plug. Aidan hides his smile as best as he can. Dean really wasn’t joking about jumping him as quickly as possible. 

They settle in the living room where Aidan hands out mismatched mugs of tea. Sugar and milk are passed around and then the inevitable happens. Ben reaches out, but stops with his hand in the air midway and looks around the table confused. 

Aidan knows what is up and gnaws uncomfortably at his thumb until he can’t take it anymore.

“Dean did the shopping,” he blurts out and even points at him, earning a glare from Dean.

“I see,” Ben says slowly. “How long have you been in this country, Dean?” It might have come across as offensive, but Ben is skilled enough to make it sound lovely.

“Almost a year,” Dean replies, “so there’s really no excuse, I know. I’ve had the biscuit- lecture already.”

“Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it,” Ben says, clearly implying that there is a shop just around the corner and that a lot could have been done. At least that is, what Aidan hears. “And how is that going for you? Are you allowed to work here?” 

“Yeah, I have all the…” Dean falters with his mouth slightly open. It only dawns on Aidan then, what Ben might be asking and he is about to jump in to save Dean when he continues. “Documents, but I’m not interested. I – I’m not.” He gestures to Aidan. “It’s not what I do. I couldn’t.”

“Oh. Oh, no! I’m not asking you to become an escort,” Ben laughs and seems genuinely surprised that Dean jumped to that conclusion. “I was just curious. As are you, I am sure, so why don’t I tell you a bit about our agency?” He doesn’t wait for a response and carries straight on talking. “Aidan, we are very keen to have you on board. I speak for Richard as well, when I say that we always appreciated your work and your commitment to the job and we think that – in the right environment and the right guidance you can become truly sensational.”

The kind words make Aidan blush and squirm in his seat. He knows that he was good – once – and Iago knew it too, even though he never said it, but he never expected anyone else to notice. Certainly not the people _he_ always considered to be the best in the business. 

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” he mumbles into his mug, and has to admit that no matter how uncomfortable he is to receive such praise, it still feels good to hear. “I just get on with it.”

Ben continues by going into more detail about the agency. He talks enthusiastically about their overall plan, money and security. He takes his time to explain their security system to Aidan, reassuring him that it is pretty much fail-safe. He even instructs Aidan to download the app they are going to use for safety right away.

“The app automatically sends out emergency messages to the contacts you chose if you don’t switch it off. If everything is fine, you turn it off, but if there is anything wrong, anything at all, you don’t even need to touch your phone to get help. The app will send a message to us after a set amount of time and you could even make Dean one of your emergency contacts.”

“Sounds good.” The memory of struggling with his phone to call for help and getting away from the guy attacking him is still fresh. He isn’t too sure if he wants Dean to be one of his emergency contacts, though. He certainly wouldn’t ignore a call for help like Iago did, but Aidan doesn’t want to put Dean in any danger either. And he absolutely doesn’t want Dean to feel like he has to rescue Aidan, ever. They are going to have to talk about it.

Even though Aidan finds it really reassuring to see that Ben and Richard put so much thought and care into their work and finds their enthusiasm refreshing it gets hard to listen to Ben’s lengthy descriptions after a while. His voice is so deep and calming and then there is Dean, squirming on his plug right next to him. It’s distracting.

“And then there is our website,” Ben’s claps his hands eagerly and successfully gains Aidan’s attention back. Ben hands him a brand new iPad and Aidan is glad that there is something to do now. He always finds it easier to focus on something he can look at and touch. “Feel free to browse.” 

He can tell that Ben is particularly proud of the webpage and he has every right to be. The design is sleek and sophisticated and differs greatly from most escort websites around the web. Aidan has no doubt that it was rather expensive, but he finds it appealing and if he were a client it would reassure him of the agencies’ high standards. 

“Aww, did you write that yourself?” he asks, after reading the very short but charming description of himself. “The luck of the Irish is strong with Aidan. He has it all, a charismatic personality with a delightful sense of humour paired with a fit, athletic body and a charming smile. He enjoys witty conversations over dinner and will make you feel at ease right away. Aidan loves to kiss and offers an unbelievable boyfriend experience.”

“It’s just a first draft,” Ben admits, almost a little bashful. “Of course it can be changed.”

“No, it’s fine,” Aidan says with a – what did it say? – _charming_ smile. At least they didn’t describe him as tall, dark and handsome like Iago did. Half of the clients he saw were surprised when they realized that he wasn’t particularly tall. 

“We can change the picture as well,” he continues and turns to Dean. “Actually, that is why we wanted to have you here as well, Dean.”

“Me?” Dean frowns and looks at Ben slightly confused. 

“Well, we would like all of our employees to have a website similar to Aidan, with detailed information and a number of strong pictures. We like your style and you have a good artistic eye.”

Curious as to where this is heading, Aidan stops going through the other profiles. There are only four guys so far, including himself, and he knows two of them from Iago’s agency.

“We would like to propose a business partnership in which we recommend your service to our boys and take a commission of thirty per cent for the referral.”

Dean’s frown deepens and rubs the back of his neck, obviously stunned by the offer. 

Aidan has to admit that he isn’t thrilled by the idea of Dean being involved in this business even as an outsider. He also remembers how intimate their photoshoot was at times and he really doesn’t like the thought of Dean being this close to another half-naked bloke - although he sees how that is a rather weak argument coming from him. On the other hand, it would allow Dean the luxury of not having to accept every single booking for christenings, weddings and corporate functions that bore Dean to tears.

He listens to Dean bargaining about the commission with a surprising and sexy newfound confidence and when Aidan is sure that the deal is settled but for the final handshake, Dean leans back in his seat.

“Obviously, I can’t make a decision without discussing it with Aidan first, but I am definitely interested.”

“Obviously,” Ben says, but it sounds a little short. He isn’t good with being told to wait and Aidan is relieved to have found a tiny little flaw in Ben’s perfect façade. “I’m going to take some measurements now and I would also like to see your… equipment.”

“Wow, you sure are thorough.” Aidan thinks that this is going a little overboard now. He has only been doing this for years and hasn’t had any complaints about his _equipment_ yet, but then again, it’s probably not completely unreasonable for Ben to want to see what exactly he is selling.

He gets up unbuttons his jeans, painfully aware that all eyes are on him. He starts to slide them down, but pauses. Something is odd. The looks are not the kind he usually gets when he starts to undress. There is some polite interest in Ben’s eyes, but mostly confusion.

“When you say equipment…” He narrows his eyes and tilts his head to the side to prompt more details.

“I meant actual equipment,” Ben confirms with a mischievous smile. “Toys. Lubes.”  
“Right…” Aidan pulls his jeans back up, knowing already that he will never live down this misunderstanding. “That I keep in the bedroom.”

 

He forces himself to stay positive. This is the home stretch and the sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can forget about it and relax with Dean. Preferably on top of him.

“It’s nice,” Ben comments and takes a look out of the window.

“I guess,” Aidan replies, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn’t see the clean design, the warm colour scheme and the inviting bed anymore. All he can see is the sharp corner of the nightstand, the spot on the carpet that is a little too bright from scrubbing it and the place on the shelf where his ship in a bottle used to be. He replaced it with a model of a red VW Camper, but it’s not the same. The room just doesn’t feel the same anymore, but luckily Ben doesn’t know that.

“Let’s have a look, then, shall we?” 

Aidan helps to pull out his toy boxes from under the bed and Ben dives in. He takes everything out of the boxes, inspects it and sorts things into piles, sometimes commenting on the pieces.

“This looks interesting. What is it?” Ben shows him a black and red dildo that is about as long as two beer cans stacked on top of each other and only slightly smaller in circumference. It has a thick spade-shaped head and deep ridges along the shaft.

“It’s supposed to be a, uhm, dragon’s cock.” Aidan wrinkles his nose. “A fire-breathing dragon.” He doesn’t know what difference that makes, but the guy he bought it for was very specific about it. It was a fun role-play, pretending to be a dragon, and the dildo is actually quite nice looking. Aidan just doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to use it. He prefers pleasure to come from skill and technique rather than just size for himself and most of his clients couldn’t handle it. So it stays in the box almost all the time.

“Unusual. I like it,” Ben smiles to himself and Aidan wonders secretly what Ben might be into. Probably something nasty. He has that air of someone who is always a gentleman in public but turns kinky as fuck when the curtains are closed. 

“I can’t see what this is for.” Ben has a small remote control and looks around for the matching piece.

“Let me see… That’s for a vibrating plug. It has to be in here somewhere.” He knows that he has seen the plug last night, but it seems to have disappeared now. The dots in his head connect too slowly and he only figures it out, when Ben twists the button on the remote experimentally, resulting in a shriek from the kitchen.

“Found it.” Aidan closes his eyes briefly, hoping that, if he opens them again this just didn’t happen. But it did and there is a painful silence that is only missing crickets.

“Good range on this thing,” Ben says dryly.

“Yeah,” Aidan agrees awkwardly. 

“Right. Moving on. Everything in this pile needs to be replaced. And remember, buy cheap, pay dearly. Try to go a little more upscale when replacing these. The rest is fine, you can put it back.”

Annoyed, Aidan grits his teeth and starts to clear the toys off the bed. In the meantime, Ben picks up his iPad and flips back the cover.

“We would like to make a list of the services you offer, to make it easier for clients to find what they are looking for. So if we could just go through everything real quick, we’re done. Just let me know if you are willing to perform or receive any of the following services. And remember, I don’t judge.”

Ben reads out the different services for Aidan. The first ones are quite easy, dinner dates, kissing, fingering, oral, intercourse are all kind of expected anyway and Aidan finds it easy to say yes to all of them.

“Role-playing, costumes and uniforms?” 

Aidan picks up the ring gag he intended to throw away. He doesn’t want it anymore, just the thought that it is there makes him uneasy, but he never forced himself to actually get it and throw it out. He kind of hoped it would disappear on its own. Clearly it didn’t and he isn’t prepared to look at it now. It reminds him so much of that night, of the gag that was used on him, it takes his breath away for a moment. He turns away, rubbing at his face.

“No,” he says quickly and even though Ben raises an eyebrow, he taps the appropriate box on his tablet. From there, things go kind of downhill. 

“I’m sorry to say this, but it would be good if you agreed to some things,” Ben says in his habitually calm way. It still makes Aidan feel cornered and pressured. “I understand that you may be cautious to do certain things and no one expects you to get into bondage…”

“No, you’re right,” Aidan interrupts, unconsciously taking a step back and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “If I want to be successful, I shouldn’t limit myself. Just put down yes for everything. Fisting, spanking, scat.”

Yeah, that was immature and it didn’t help his mission to gain Ben’s respect, he is aware of that, but it is better than to let his new boss know that he is afraid of getting hurt, humiliated and abused again. 

“That is not what we want at all,” Ben sounds just a tad annoyed, but Aidan is prepared to dig in his heels and just stick with his stupid, irrational, panicked decision. “And we don’t offer any scat, so there’s that.”

“Whatever. If someone wants it, I’ll do it,” Aidan says, even though the thought makes his skin crawl.

“Why don’t we leave it for now?” Ben asks. “I will email the list to you and once you’ve had a chance to think about it, you can send me your answers.

“Sure,” Aidan barely listens anymore. He just wants this to be over and Ben out.

 

“Anything I can do to cheer you up?” Dean hugs Aidan from behind, soon as the door closes behind Ben. 

“No,” Aidan shakes his head and twists out of Dean’s arms. “I’m not in the mood.”  
“We could talk,” Dean suggests, but Aidan just makes a dismissive sound. Why does nobody understand that he _doesn’t want to talk_. He wants to be left alone. He can hardly tell Dean to leave, he is his _boyfriend_ now, he gets to be around all the damn time, so Aidan does the next best thing. Run.

“I’m almost out of cigarettes. I’ll just go down to the shop.”

It is dark, when he returns and even though he had the presence of mind to text Dean that he won’t be back right away, the flat is empty. The butt plug is stuck to the door with the suction cup at the bottom of it and it bobs mockingly when Aidan slams the door.


	4. Barbie’s Dream-House

_“Aiden promises a ‘true’ boyfriend experience and that is what you get, the good (he made me feel right at home) and the bad (NO passion, NO effort). Hes very chatty & friendly, good kisser, great body & face. Sadly, he relies on that and seems to think he doesnt have to make much of an effort, because hes pretty. If I wanted someone to lie there and moan, I couldve stayed at home and rogered the missus. He started off with a BJ – covered and somewhat disappointing. He kept his hand wrapped around me so that I couldn’t feel his mouth all the way. Thats just lazy. We tried different positions and the sex wasnt particularly bad, it was just lacklustre performance that felt rather strained at times. He was strongly recommended by the agency, but I have a feeling that they just wanted to get him off the shelf. Not worth the cash, would not bok him again.” - Paul_

No matter how many times he reads it, it doesn’t get any better. Neither the spelling, nor the content improves through the power of positive thinking. He has received negative reviews before, but he finds this one particularly devastating, because Paul was his first client since, well, _since_. It is the first review on his profile, the one that everyone is going to read. It is even worse that he finds it quite undeserved. Yes, he may have been a little stiff and nervous and maybe even uncomfortable, but to be honest, Paul wasn’t the kind of guy to inspire greatness.

“Step away from the laptop.” Dean makes a shooing motion at him. “You’re not doing yourself any favours.”

“But…” Aidan begins, but there isn’t anything he can say that would justify reading the comment for the hundreds time.

“No,” Dean says sternly and takes the computer off Aidan’s lap. “Seriously, I have to get some work done here.”

“At least one of us has a job,” Aidan groans and slumps into the couch. No one is ever going to want to book him after this. 

“Oh, come on! It’s really…” Dean is interrupted by Aidan’s phone ringing.

“Work” it says on the screen, but Aidan isn’t ready to be yelled at for getting a bad review. Or worse, pitied.

“Deeean!” He thrusts the phone at Dean. “Answer it. Please? Tell them I’m sick, tell them I can’t work today.” 

“You’re not sick,” Dean says, his eyes flickering from the phone to Aidan’s face.

“I am so,” Aidan insists and prods Dean with the phone. “Please!”

After a long, disapproving stare Dean snatches the phone.

“Aidan’s phone, this is Dean.” Relieved Aidan crawls closer to Dean, hoping to catch anything from the other end of the line. “Yeah, he’s just in the shower, but he will call you back in just a few minutes.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Because I’m not your answering service and I’m not comfortable lying. You don’t look sick,” Dean places his hand on Aidan’s forehead, “you don’t feel sick. I’d say the only thing that’s wrong with you is that you are a big baby.”

“Well, do you think that would get me out of work today? Because if not, you’re really not helping.”  
“You do realise that you don’t even make sense anymore, right? If no one wants to book you, then why would you need to get out of work today?”

“I have an appointment for today, so I guess they were calling to cancel that.”

“Good!” Dean smiles at him brightly, knowing that he just won the argument. “That’s what you wanted anyway.”

To avoid having to admit defeat, Aidan takes a sip from Dean’s coffee and makes a face at the lack of sugar in it.

“So what would you do?” 

“Well, you got a bad review. That sucks, but you can’t let that bring you down. You will make the next guy so happy that he will write something great about you and then everyone will think that the first guy is just a dick who can’t be happy and that’s that, right?”

Aidan shrugs. He isn’t quite sure how he is supposed to make his client today so incredibly happy since he doesn’t feel much more confident than before, probably even less so. 

“And then we should really look into getting you out of this flat. It’s not good for you to stay here. And you can’t do your best work if you’re not in a good, happy place, literally and figuratively.” Dean has a point, Aidan has to admit that. He notices more and more that the flat and particularly the bedroom cause his mood to change rapidly. Apparently Dean has picked up on it, too. “Although from what it looks like, I am going to move out before you.” 

“What? Why? You love your house!” 

“Turns out Anna is pregnant. She wants the boyfriend to move in and turn my room into the nursery. She told me yesterday.” Dean takes the cup back and stares at it for a moment. 

“Can she do that? Can she just kick you out?” 

“Technically she can’t, but am I really going to be the guy who makes his pregnant roommate move out?”

“No, of course not.” Aidan leans over and kisses Dean’s head. “You’re a good guy.”

“That’s right. And now you are going to call Richard back, because otherwise he will start to wonder what the hell you are doing in the shower that is taking so long.”

Aidan starts to protest, but Dean simply puts the phone in his lap and gets up.

“Just do it. It won’t get any easier later. And when you’re done, there is a big cup of coffee waiting for you with all the sugar I can find.”

“I’m not a child, you can’t bribe me with the promise of sugar,” Aidan yells after Dean, but he makes the call anyway. As it turns out, it isn’t as horrible as anticipated. 

“Of course we aren’t thrilled about the review,” Richard admits, “but we still support you and we don’t blame you, since we kind of threw you into the deep end.”

They promised Aidan that his first few clients could be one of his regulars, but sadly none of them made a booking, so Aidan agreed to see someone new, just to get back to work. This whole thing could have been avoided, if Aidan hadn’t been so impatient.

“We’re sorry about that and if you would prefer not to see… ahm… David tonight, we understand. We can arrange for someone else to fill in.”

Aidan takes the phone away from his ear and stares at it. This has got to be a prank call. Richard apologised to _him_? This is not what he expected at all and it makes him feel very guilty for expecting anything less than classy. Then again, he is burned from his experiences with Iago.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I’ll see David, no problem. And _I’m_ really sorry. It won’t happen again.” He closes his eyes, hoping that he can keep the promise. “Is there anything else I can do to make it up to you or Paul?”

“It’s okay. We spoke with Paul, offered him an extra hour for free for his next booking. Not with you, of course.”

“Thanks,” Aidan says, truly grateful for the support he receives. “I owe you one.”

Richard laughs at the other end of the line and Aidan can just sense that he is going to have to return that favour one way or another.

 

He tries to get up as quietly as possible, but he can hear Dean stir already. He sits on the edge of the bed, hoping that he didn’t wake Dean up, that he is just turning around in his sleep, but of course, he has no such luck.

“Babe, are you okay?” Dean’s voice is sleepy and Aidan hates that he woke him up. Again.

“Yeah,” Aidan rubs his hand over his face. “Fine.”

The nightmares are taking on a whole new dimension. When they began, he was pretty much just reliving the things that actually happened to him, but the dreams have become different and usually starring Iago now. But in the dreams he isn’t just _regular_ creepy Iago, he is some kind of Alien or Superhuman, like the guy from the X-Files, who could stretch and contort his body into impossible positions in order to gain access to his victims. In his dreams Iago has the ability to do that and the thought of his cold, elongated fingers groping for him still gives him goose bumps, even now that he is awake.

“Come on, go back to sleep,” Dean says softly. He is sitting up as well and trying to hug Aidan from behind, but he twists away.

“Don’t touch me,” Aidan snaps, a little harsher than he intended. He knows that Dean’s hands are warm and comforting, not cold and scary, but he can’t stand the thought of having anyone’s hands on his body right now.

“Sorry.” 

They sit there silently for a moment, listening to each other breathe, until Aidan shakes his head.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He gets up. Even though it is a pleasant mid-June night, he feels cold and comfortless. “I’ll get some water. I’ll be right back.”

They both ignore the fact that there is a full glass of water on the nightstand, as Aidan walks out of the bedroom. He shuffles into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. He is disgusted with himself for looking so tired and pale, even though it is summer and he spends an insane amount of time outside, thanks to Dean and his desire to be outdoorsy. 

Knowing that he won’t go back to sleep, he figures that he might as well wake up properly, so he takes a quick shower and then plods into the kitchen for coffee and a cigarette.

He sits at the open kitchen window, sipping his coffee, smoking and watches the city wake up. No matter how hard he tries to fight it, his thoughts quickly return to his dream and Iago and he thinks that Dean is right about moving to a new flat. Whenever he sleeps over at Dean’s the dreams aren’t so bad. He wakes up once during the night, but he can hardly remember why and usually falls asleep again within a few minutes, without the irrational fear that there is someone in the room who isn’t supposed to be there. A new flat, somewhere Iago won’t find him, won’t even look for him - that sounds nice and manageable and absolutely necessary if he wants to hold on to his sanity.

He smokes until his pack is empty and even though he feels nauseated and lightheaded from too much nicotine already, he gets dressed quietly to go to the shop around the corner for another pack. Any excuse to get out of the house for a bit is welcome. 

He leaves a note, “gone for smokes”, for Dean and adds “I’ll bring breakfast” as an afterthought. He feels bad for snapping at Dean all the time. None of this is his fault and he has been nothing but supportive and patient.

 

“You made pancakes,” Dean looks around the kitchen that looks like a battlefield and smells slightly burned.

“Sure,” Aidan replies as if it wasn’t the biggest culinary achievement of his entire life. “Sit.”

“Did someone die?” Dean asks only half joking. “Am _I_ dying?”

“No,” Aidan rolls his eyes at him. He had the idea to make pancakes on his way to the shop and that has lifted his spirits immediately. Doing something to distract him was great and knowing that Dean would enjoy the results was the cherry on top. “It’s my apology for being a dick.”

“In that case, I hope that you’re a dick a lot more often.” Dean grins, ruffles his hands through his hair sleepily and gives Aidan a quick kiss. “You know you don’t have to apologise, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Aidan insists. He pours coffee into Dean’s cup and hands him the Art and Lifestyle pages of the paper, which Dean likes to read first.

They talk about their plans for a while before starting on the newspaper. Aidan has a client in the evening and Dean needs to finish a commissioned painting.

“There is a guy coming around noon tomorrow to change the smoke alarms,” Aidan mentions. “I have a meeting planned with Ben and Richard. Will you be around to let him in, or should I reschedule the meeting?”

“No, that’s fine. I can be here. If you want me to spend yet another night,” Dean replies with an innocent smile, as if he needs an invitation to stay over.

“Yeah, I think I can live with that.” Aidan picks up the remainder of the newspaper and flips to the sports page. “You know, I’ve given your idea some thought,” he continues thoughtfully, “about moving.”

Dean looks up, immediately attentive. He has been dropping clues about moving in together from the day he learned about his flatmate’s pregnancy. From the subtle “How strange is it, that two bedroom flats are so much easier to find than places for single people?” to the rather blunt “I definitely don’t want to live alone”, his hints have been varied, imaginative and numerous. Aidan has, so far, pretended not to hear or get them. He never said anything about Dean’s suggestions, because he wasn’t really convinced about moving out of this flat. He loves it. It is modern, relatively close to the city and he can afford it, but sadly it has been ruined by bad memories. 

“I think I should do it.” He looks at Dean over the top of the newspaper. 

“Hm,” Dean replies and shifts on his chair.

“I think I would like to stay in this area. There are a few flats that are about this size around here.”

“You’re looking for a one bedroom again?” The disappointment on Dean’s face is pitiful. 

“Well, yeah. Unless…” He trails off, pretending to read something. 

“Unless?” Dean prompts.

“That world cup, huh? My cash’s on Brazil to win.”

“Huh?” Dean furrows his brows impatiently. “Sure. Brazil. You were talking about moving?”

“Right, yeah. I mean I know it’s pretty fast, we hardly know each other, but…” Aidan pauses again, sure that Dean is going to explode if he doesn’t finish his sentence within the next ten seconds, “if you want to we could be flatmates.”

Dean opens his mouth and closes it again. He looks genuinely surprised and shocked.  
“What? No!” Dean places his hand over his eyes for a moment before looking at an equally confused Aidan again. 

“I thought that was what you wanted, with all those hints and shit!”  
“I don’t want to be _flatmates_. I want to move in with you. _Live_ with you.”  
“What’s the difference?”

“Flatmates make cleaning schedules and have their own space in the fridge and go to their own rooms at night,” he counts his arguments on his fingers. “Flatmates don’t have sex.”

“They don’t, huh?” He puts the newspaper away and focuses his attention entirely on Dean. “In that case, I would love to live with you, too, Dean.”

His face splits into a smile and leaps off his chair into Aidan’s lap for hugs and kisses.

“I really thought you didn’t get my hints,” Dean beams at him and then slaps his chest playfully. “That’s for being an ass about it, though.”

“Sorry,” Aidan grins back happily. “It’s not too soon, is it?”

Dean shrugs his shoulders and runs his hand through Aidan’s hair thoughtfully.

“I’ve been with Megan for three years before we moved in together and it still ended badly, so…”

“That’s reassuring.”

“It’s just, if you can’t predict how these things go anyway, why waste time going back and forth between two places? And what if can’t live together at all? If it just doesn’t work? Wouldn’t you like to find out sooner rather than later?”

“You’re so selling this moving in together. I really want to do it now. You should do that professionally. See people who are not sure if they want to do it and give them that speech: Look, you’re going to break up anyway, so why not save some money on rent while you can still stand to be around each other?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You know, you could really build a business out of it, if you expanded and did consultations for people about to get married.”

Dean digs his hand a little tighter into Aidan’s hair, almost painfully tight.

“Do you want to move in together or do you want to make fun of me?”

“Can I do both?”

“No.”

“I can’t make any promises about never making fun of you again,” Aidan pauses to look at Dean for a moment. “But I would really like to give living with you a try.”

Dean smiles at him again. His grip on Aidan’s hair loosens and he moves his hands down to cup his face before he gives him a long, slow kiss.

“I’ll take it.”

 

He had planned to stay at Adam’s for at least another hour, but Adam didn’t have time for Aidan today, which makes him now early for work. He is supposed to meet his client for dinner and a shag at the Hilton in Islington. Islington of all places. Just stepping out of the Underground makes him feel uneasy and like he is being watched, even though he knows it is impossible. Iago would never sink as low as to use public transportation with the, well, the public. But still, there is a vibe about this area.

He walks around for a bit, past the “Famous Cock” pub - a name that never fails to make him grin – knowing that there is a small coffee shop in one of these streets, but when he finds it eventually, he doesn’t feel like having coffee. He is too restless to make caffeine sound like a good idea. 

He turns around and follows Upper Street as he has done so many times before, always secretly admiring the posh houses with the trees and flowers along the pavement. He barely has to look up to find his turn and after another few minutes he sees Iago’s classy little house just the same as the last time he was here. White brick and a royal blue door with a gilded knocker and ornate windows.

The bushes in the front garden need to be trimmed and overall, the house gives off a cold, deserted vibe, but admittedly, there was never much life in it, even when Iago was around. Jola, Aidan remembers with a heavy heart, was the only one to give the house some warmth. 

He watches the house from a safe distance for a while. It wasn’t a conscious decision to come here, but it feels good. It feels good to know that Iago is really gone. A bit of a triumph to know that he drove Iago out of his home the same way Iago is driving him out his home now.

He wonders what would happen, if he rang the doorbell. A part of him expects Jola to open the door for him as always, but he has to admit, that the scenario is rather unlikely and if it happened would lead to a whole bunch of other problems. Iago could open the door, but Aidan doesn’t even want to think that idea through to the end.

He creeps up to the front door to see if someone else has moved in or bought the place, but there is no name on the door. There never was when Iago was still around so that doesn’t help. He takes a step back and looks up at the windows. All the curtains are drawn and the harder Aidan stares, the more he is convinced that they move. He shudders and even though it is a very warm afternoon, wraps his arms around his body and turns around hesitant about his next move.

The blinds at the house across the street are undoubtedly moving. Aidan can even see a hand prying them apart for a better view. To avoid the neighbours calling the police on him for lurking, he walks away from the house, but not without looking back several times.

 

The client is actually rather nice, with great food, interesting conversation and surprisingly good sex. There is a reason Aidan prefers to work with older men. They just have this whole gentleman-thing figured out and know how to treat an escort well. And in bed, they last for-fucking-ever.

After one final drink at the hotel bar with the satisfied client, Aidan leaves the hotel and pulls his phone out of his pocket to text Dean that he will be home soon, but stops, when he notices a missed call. No name, just a number. He almost ignores it, figuring that they would call back if it was important, but then he realises that he knows the number. He deleted the name it belongs to a while ago, but he has seen that number so many times, it is burned into his memory forever.

Iago.

He sinks down onto the stairs in front of the hotel slowly, clutching the banister with one hand.

“Sir, are you all right?” One of the hotel staff is immediately at his side.

“Yeah,” Aidan says, but shakes his head at his phone. “Sorry.”

He pulls himself up again and flees around the corner, just far enough to be out of sight from the hotel staff, but close enough to feel somewhat safe.

He thinks that he should breathe into a bag, but carries only lube and condoms with him. While one of these items might be more suitable for breathing into, Aidan doesn’t want to give it a try. Instead he cups his hand over his nose and mouth and tries to concentrate on taking deep, even breaths.

Why? Why was he so stupid to come to Iago’s house? Why couldn’t he just let it be? And how did Iago even know he was there?

He looks around restlessly. Even though it is rather late, the street is still busy. Anyone could have followed him. Anyone could be watching him right now. 

He turns around slowly to see if anyone jumps out as an obvious stalker, but no one does. No one is lurking in the shadows wearing sunglasses, a big hat and a trenchcoat. No one is carrying around a pair of binoculars to make things a little easier for Aidan. 

He takes one more deep breath to focus and then quickly texts Dean.

“Will you come over tonight?” 

“I thought you were working late?” Dean replies. “But yeah, sure. Might be a little later, though. Totally inspired.” He sends Aidan a photo of the painting he is working on. Aidan barely looks at it and text back something hopefully nice and supportive before getting a taxi to go home as quickly as possible.

 

When he enters his flat, he switches on all the lights and carefully walks from room to room to check that he is alone. Iago knows where Aidan lives and he could be hiding somewhere. He wishes he was the kind of person to have a baseball bat lying around or a golf club, but he isn’t. He does find a pretty mean looking knife, though and armed with that, he finds refuge on the couch while he waits for Dean.

He still sits there at three in the morning, halfway between being awake and being asleep when his phone buzzes.

“Fuck! So sorry! Lost track of time! Hope I didn’t wake you. Love you!”

Aidan blinks blearily at the message that pulled him out of his daze and wonders honestly if he has officially crossed the line into insanity. Still a little weary of any noises he gets up from the couch and walks into the bedroom, leaving on all the lights. He tucks the knife in the gap between the mattress and the headboard and lies down.

When Dean comes over around ten the next day, he is still in bed without having slept at all.


	5. It takes balls to play

“We’re moving.” Dean stomps into the living room, where Aidan is trying to get some sleep. Just a few hours of rest, is all he wants. Just a few shorts moments away from worrying about the call. Aidan sits up groggily. Sleep is not coming, so he might as well stop trying to force it.

Something seems to have snapped inside of Dean. He is more furious than Aidan has ever seen him.

“This is not acceptable.” He slams the knife that Aidan hid between the mattress and the headboard onto the table so hard it makes Aidan recoil into his blanket. “How dare this little motherfucker do this to you?”

“I’m sorry,” Aidan replies darkly. 

“No, don’t be sorry, Aidan, be…” Dean pauses to find the right words. Aidan has a few suggestions. Be stronger. Be healed. Be normal. “Be angrier!”

Aidan looks up surprised to hear this coming from Dean of all people. Dean who wouldn’t even yell at O2 after they screwed up his mobile bill three times.

“Why do you just lie down and take it? Why don’t you stand up for yourself and fight back?”

Aidan lets his chin drop again and shrugs his shoulders. There is no fight left in him. Every time he thinks he is doing better, he has another nightmare or a client that reminds him of that night or something else happens that knocks him down again and he is tired of getting back up to fight something he never sees coming.

Dean lets go of a deep breath and sits down next to Aidan. He pulls his head against his chest and buries his cheek in Aidan’s hair.

“I just want you to feel better. I can’t watch while you allow this to destroy you.”

Aidan nods his head slowly. He understands. He can’t keep acting like a victim, because the fact is, he isn’t a victim. He invited the first man into his home and even played his game. He is not a victim. Basically, he asked for it. The entire thing is exceedingly his fault and he honestly has no right to cry about it now.

“Give me your phone,” Dean says after sitting in silence for a while. Aidan blinks blearily and slowly opens his fingers that are stiff from being curled and cramped around his mobile for too long. “Did you ever return the call?”

The idea had crossed Aidan’s mind, but the thought of hearing Iago’s voice again is terrifying and he couldn’t convince himself to try. He watches Dean with a mixture of horror and curiosity as he hits redial and puts the phone on loudspeaker.

Aidan is holding his breath as they listen to the dial tone. 

Dean lets the phone ring for a while and just when they are ready to hang up, a very impatient sounding woman answers. Aidan’s pounding heart sinks in his chest. Deep down he wanted Iago to answer and hear what Dean would say to him.

“Can I speak with Iago, please?” Dean tries anyway.

“What?” The woman replies, in heavy accented English. “Not know.”

“No, _I_ want to speak with Iago.”

“Not know,” the woman repeats and Aidan thinks he should remember that for the next time some telemarketer bothers him.

“You called me? Yesterday.”

The woman still doesn’t understand and Dean looks at Aidan for his approval to end the call. Aidan nods, but then holds up his hand to stop Dean.

“Mr. Poitr?” he asks, remembering the name Jola used to address Iago, when her English was that poor. He never knew Iago’s first name, Peter, before and thought it was just a random nickname until now. 

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“Przepraszam nie ma go tutaj w tej chwili. Do widzenia” she says and hangs up. Aidan sinks back against the couch. 

“Maybe Iago lost his phone. Maybe she picked it up and just dialled random numbers from his contacts,” Dean ponders. “Maybe it really is just a coincidence.”

“Yeah,” Aidan replies, wishing it was that easy. The pause bothers him. He felt like there was some recognition there and if he had been able to communicate with the woman he could have found out more. 

Exhausted Aidan turns to put his head in Dean’s lap and finally drifts off into a restless sleep.

He doesn’t feel great when he wakes up, but better. He is happy to see that Dean is still sitting with him. He must have gotten up at some point to fetch his laptop, but he is still sitting close to Aidan’s head, with his left hand occasionally stroking through his hair.

“What are you doing?” Aidan asks. Even in his sleepy state he can tell that Dean is frustrated.

“Looking for flats.” Dean replies without taking his eyes off the screen. “This is impossible. An affordable three bedroom flat, close to the city centre with a large kitchen, two bathrooms, a balcony and lots of natural light, how hard can it be to find that?”

Aidan yawns and stretches, considering the list Dean just rattled off. Their new flat has to be affordable, there is no way around that and it has to be reasonably close to the city centre for Aidan to take in-calls. 

“We don’t desperately need two bathrooms. I don’t mind sharing with your clients.” Dean says, going through the list as well. “And we don’t need three bedrooms. I guess one for us to sleep and one for you to do your thing would be enough, right?”

“But where would you do your thing? Your paintings and… other projects?” Aidan makes a face at his own lack of knowledge about Dean’s work. He should really start to pay more attention when Dean tells him about it.

“I’ll find a space. Don’t worry about that.”

“We’ll see how that goes,” Aidan says, although he already knows that he won’t move anywhere that doesn’t have a space that Dean can have all to himself. He may not know what exactly Dean does when he isn’t painting or drawing or photographing, but he remembers the sparkle in Dean’s eyes, the time he told Aidan about his ideal studio and he wants to see that sparkle in his eyes again, when they find the right place for it. “What else?”

They decide that, since neither of them cooks, a large kitchen isn’t a priority, but the balcony is a must. 

“Do you think I’m going to have to leave every time you bring a guy home?” Dean’s fingers play with Aidan’s hair absent minded.

“I don’t bring guys home,” Aidan clarifies, but Dean has a point. It would be quite awkward to have his boyfriend hanging around, watching the game on the telly while he is trying to have sex in the other room. “We’re going to have to come up with a system, because I really don’t want to kick you out regularly.”

“I wouldn’t want that. Although, I’m not sure if I can be around while you work, either.”

“We’ll work out something,” Aidan says. “Really good sound-proofing for starters.”

Dean laughs and sets the laptop aside. He leans over Aidan and kisses him upside down.

“So finding a place that works for both of us really shouldn’t be a problem, then.” 

“Not at all and once we’ve done that, we might as well go looking for the Holy Grail.”

“Or a comedian that is actually funny.”

“Or a smart blonde.”

“Hey!” Dean protests and gestures towards his hair. “Don’t you know a guy who could help us find a flat? I mean you clearly fucked your way into this one.”

“What?” Aidan asks, outraged about Dean’s assumption for about two seconds. “Actually, it’s true, I did.” 

“Can you do it again?” 

“Not with that guy, no. There is someone else I know, though, who knows everything about everything. But I can’t really ask him.”

“Why not? Was he bad in bed? Did you tell him?” Dean asks, hoping for a good story.

“It’s Jimmy.”

Dean’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Jimmy is still a bit of a touchy subject between them ever since he almost ruined their relationship before it even began and Aidan isn’t sure how they left things. He doesn’t have any hard feelings but he has no idea how Jimmy feels about him after Aidan rejected his generous offer to become his consort. They haven’t spoken since.

“Do you want to try?” Dean asks after another long moment of silence. “Or should we put a little more effort into it ourselves, first?”

Aidan shrugs his shoulders. He feels bad for not knowing what Jimmy is up to and how he is. They were always in contact before and Aidan often got postcards and pictures from the places Jimmy thought Aidan would enjoy seeing. He missed that a lot and asking Jimmy about a flat seemed like an innocent enough way to start up a conversation again. Just conversation. Aidan doesn’t even expect to get him back as a client – even though he wouldn’t say no if it came to that. His dates with Jimmy were just so much fun that he would jump at the chance to see him again, but he realises that Jimmy probably wouldn’t. Not after the way Aidan treated him.

“I could text him something like, hey, do you want to meet for coffee, and when he says hell no, I could pretend that I send it to the wrong number.” Aidan actually likes that idea, but Dean clearly doesn’t.

“No. You are not a twelve year old girl talking to her crush, so don’t behave like one.”

Aidan makes a very “twelve year old girl”-face at Dean, but he grabs his phone anyway. Although it feels like he deletes more words than he types he gets there eventually and reads the message to Dean.

“’J, I hope you’re well. I need some help. Are you free for coffee sometime?’ Bam, in less than 140 characters.”

“I would say ‘advice’ instead of help. Advice sounds like you value his opinion. Help sounds like you need cash.”

“Hm,” Aidan makes, as he changes the word. “You give such good advice, Dean.”

Even though he feels a little nervous about it, he sends the message and doesn’t have to wait long for the response.

“I’ll call you, when I’m back in London next week.” 

 

Standing around in the street in front of a pub for a smoke is fine, but once the second cigarette is gone it becomes awkward rather quickly and does nothing to make Aidan less nervous. If anything, it makes it worse. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. The inside of the pub is dark and run down. The air is stuffy and heavy with the smell of beer and greasy food. It has people talking loudly over a football match – Australia against Holland - and Aidan likes it instantly. It reminds him a lot of the pubs he worked at while studying in Dublin – or pretending to study. Somehow his time at uni involved a lot more tending bar than attending classes. Looking back, he sees now how that could have been the problem. Then again, he is doing well for himself without a diploma and none of the courses really interested him anyway, so at least he didn’t waste time on attaining a useless degree and getting a job that makes him miserable.

He gets a coke from the bar and looks around to find Jimmy sitting in a booth by himself, watching the game. He walks over unsure what to expect. For Aidan, Jimmy has always been more than just a client. He was a friend and the time they spent together in California was one of the most memorable experiences in his life and such a beautiful example of Jimmy’s generous and caring nature. He shouldn’t be scared to ask him for help, but he is. They left things so abruptly, so unfinished, that Aidan wouldn’t blame Jimmy for avoiding him for the rest of his life. But, then again, it is a small step in the right direction that Jimmy even returned his call, even if he was short and distracted during their brief talk. 

“I was wondering if you were ever going to come in,” Jimmy says before Aidan even has the chance to say “hi”.

“What do you mean? I just got here.” With a grin, Jimmy points at a window right in his line of sight that allows him to see the exact spot Aidan fought out his inner battle of going in or leaving.

“Oh,” Aidan replies, lowering his eyes. Caught red-handed. He hopes that it is too dark to see the blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“It was actually quite entertaining.” Jimmy gesture to the seat opposite him. “Much better than this shite,” he adds with a nod to the television hanging above the bar and, with a disgusted look, takes a sip from his beer. It is almost halftime and from what Aidan had gathered by reading the news ticker on his phone it is actually a super game, with the Australians giving the Dutch a real run-around.

“One day we’ll see Ireland win,” Aidan says with a smirk and sits down.

“The world cup?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow doubtfully.

“No! No, of course not. Just any old game.”

Jimmy gives him a snort of laughter and raises his glass in agreement. The ice might not be quite broken yet, but it is getting thinner and there is already that familiar twinkle back in Jimmy’s eyes.

“So,” Jimmy leans back in his seat. “You needed a favour?”

Aidan grabs a beermat to give his hands something to do.

“Not so much a favour,” he begins, tracing the archer’s bow in the Strongbow logo with his finger. “It’s really more of a bit of advice. Your opinion, basically.” 

It doesn’t matter which words he chooses, he still thinks that it is too bold to ask anything from Jimmy, who has already given him so much.

“My opinion? Get on with it then, luckily I have a lot of them.”

Aidan wonders if it was meant to come across as pointedly as it did. He can imagine what kind of opinion Jimmy has of him.

“Yeah, well,” Aidan rubs his chin awkwardly. “Actually, I am moving out of my flat and I am having a difficult time finding a new place. You know so many people, so I was wondering if you had any contacts I could try or, you know, just general ideas where to start looking. I tried online, of course, but you know what that’s like…” Aidan stops himself to take a breath, after saying all that in one go. 

“Hmm,” Jimmy says thoughtfully and takes a long drink from his beer. “What are you looking for? About the same as you have now?”

“Sure. I mean, maybe slightly bigger. An extra bedroom would be nice. For work. Well, two extra bedrooms, really.” Aidan finds it incredibly uncomfortable to rub into Jimmy’s face that he really needs a flat big enough for two. It doesn’t seem right and rather insensitive, but as always, Jimmy is already one step ahead of him.

“So you and the Kiwi are getting serious, huh?”

Aidan tries to say something that makes it sound a little less inconsiderate, but there is nothing, really, so he settles for a disarmed smile and nods.

“Good. I would have hated if you had blown me off for anything less than serious.”

And there it is. Everything Aidan has been afraid to talk about. Jimmy’s generous offer to pay Aidan full time and the rejection of that offer, which must have hit Jimmy hard. His ego must have suffered a massive blow.

“I’m sorry,” Aidan says quietly, but the words are lost under the uproar that erupts when Cahill picks himself up a second yellow for going in on Indi, who is taken away on a stretcher. For a moment they both look at the telly, Jimmy genuinely upset at the game and Aidan’s thoughts racing to come up with something to say. He had everything he was going to say on the subject planned out, but that’s all gone now. He waits until the game breaks for halftime and Jimmy’s attention is back on him before he tries again.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t handle that entire thing very well.” 

“You didn’t,” Jimmy agrees. “You wanted to have your cake and eat it, too.”

That hardly seems like a fair thing to say. It certainly wasn’t the way Aidan felt at the time, but he can see how Jimmy would think so. Aidan never told him how torn he was and how much it took out of him to ultimately make the decision to decline Jimmy’s offer. 

“I…” Aidan makes a face at the lack of words in his vocabulary to describe his feelings. He remembers very clearly how vulnerable he felt at the time – he is reminded of it almost every night in his sleep – and he remembers as well, the sudden sense of security that came with Jimmy’s offer. It sounded almost too good to be true and had it not been for Dean, he would have accepted in a heartbeat. He is glad that he didn’t, because even if it hurts to have lost Jimmy as a client and a friend it is nothing compared to the thought of not being with Dean.

“I am not used to getting rejected, I’m not going to lie, and I wasn’t too fond of you for a while.” Jimmy taps his fingers on the table. “People bend over backwards to get me what I want in my world. That’s the business.” 

“I know,” Aidan says. He never should have led Jimmy to believe that he was going to take the offer. He should have said no straightaway, actually. Not get both their hopes up, but how could he have done that in the position he was in? Cuddling up with Jimmy in a safe nest on the other side of the world compared pretty well to coming home to nothing but fear, loss and insecurity.

“You know what I like most about you?”

“That I am easily replaced,” Aidan thinks gloomily, but doesn’t say it out loud. He shakes his head instead.

“What I like most about you is that you are never business. Had you taken the offer, you would have become a part of that world. I would have been your boss and you would have been my employee and that is not the relationship I want to have with you. I didn’t think that one through all the way.”

He never thought about it this way, but what Jimmy says makes sense. Being employed by Jimmy full time _would_ have had a massive impact on their relationship on the business side of things. Aidan would have depended on Jimmy and probably would have changed his behaviour to some extent. Maybe he would have stopped to disagree with Jimmy and challenge his opinions. Maybe he would have been cautious to say no to the things that made him uncomfortable in bed to keep his job. Working for Jimmy in that position could have turned into a trainwreck at the drop of a hat.

“So there’s a silver lining and you’re not endlessly mad at me?”

“Not endlessly,” Jimmy laughs. “I actually missed you and wanted to call you, but then I read your reviews online. Jesus, Aidan, what are you doing with these lads?”

“Aah, please, don’t ask,” Aidan sighs and slumps back in his seat theatrically. None of the comments online have been as devastating as the first one, but none of them are as glowing as the ones he used to receive when he was on top of his game. Although he has a feeling that the really good ones don’t post a review at all, it’s always the bad and mediocre ones that have a hell of a lot of opinions about his performance and an even greater need to share those online in lengthy, misspelled, uninformed reviews. He doesn’t want to talk about it, either, especially not with Jimmy, so he draws the attention back to the other thing Jimmy said. “You missed me?”

“Of course I did, kid.” Finally the warmth and affection is back in Jimmy’s voice. “It’s hard to find someone like you, who loves the job and not just the money. I met with a few lads, but none of them was like you.” It makes Aidan smile and blush at the same time to hear Jimmy say such nice things. “You are truly one of the best escorts in London - no, actually, in Europe - working today. And don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise, especially not some unfulfilled arselick with an internet connection.” He reaches over the table and takes Aidan’s hands in his. “You need to get your confidence back. That’s what makes you special and sexy. Do whatever it takes.”

Aidan turns his hands around to squeeze Jimmy’s. He is – once more - touched by his kindness and doesn’t doubt that there is some truth in his words. He is aware that his level of self-esteem is often very low, but he doesn’t know how to get his confidence back to where it was. The part of him that made him stand out in a crowded room is still left bleeding on the floor in his bedroom.

“Anyway,” Jimmy pulls his hands back and finishes his beer. “Let me make some calls for you about the flat.”

Aidan thanks Jimmy again and gives him a long hug goodbye.

“Oh, I almost forgot, happy birthday.” Jimmy pulls an envelope out of his pocket and hands it to Aidan. “Don’t open it before tomorrow, that’s bad luck,” he says with a stern look before he leaves. Aidan sits back down in the booth and rips it open as soon as Jimmy is out of sight. He finds two plane tickets and a note inside. 

“A is for Amsterdam. Call this number to confirm the date and give them the Kiwi’s details. J.” 

Aidan stares at the note and the tickets for a long while. He mentioned to Jimmy once that he wanted to see more of Europe, but didn’t know where to start until they came up with the idea to visit the capitals in alphabetical order. But that was months, maybe even years ago, and Aidan can’t believe Jimmy remembered his daydreaming.

“You are insane,” he texts to Jimmy.

“BAD LUCK!” Jimmy replies dramatically.

“I’m always lucky! I’m Irish.”


	6. The Countdown

“Good morning, Babe.” Dean lips brush against the shell of Aidan’s ear, while his hand rubs his crotch lazily. This is certainly one of the best ways to wake up. “Happy Birthday!”

Oh, yeah, that…

“Nooo,” Aidan moans dramatically and rolls over onto his back. “I’m still twenty-two.”

Aidan has to give Dean credit for trying to hold back a laugh, even though he isn’t particularly successful. It’s not that Aidan hates birthdays, he likes them, he just doesn’t like to get older. 

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Dean whispers into Aidan’s ear seductively. “I promise you, you’re going to enjoy every minute of your special day.”

He looks at Aidan with a suggestive smirk while his fingers play with the waistband of his shorts.

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I just couldn’t stop myself.” Dean peels Aidan’s shorts down just far enough to free his cock and strokes it with his index finger tauntingly. “I’ve been thinking about it all morning, what I’m going to do to you. I really, really want to suck you.” He looks up briefly for approval that he needn’t have asked for. It was given wholeheartedly. “And then get on our lap and ride you. And I want to fuck you with my fingers. Do you want that as well?”

“Yes.” Aidan nods enthusiastically. He loves how much Dean has grown in confidence. When they first started dating, there was no way he would say anything like that out loud. “Yes, please.”

“Since you said please,” Dean smiles approvingly. “I’m not going to tease you on your birthday.”

He takes Aidan’s cock in his mouth. He slides down slowly, dragging his tongue over the underside as he comes back up.

The oven timer in the kitchen goes off and Dean pauses for a second. Then he pulls away from Aidan with an apologetic expression.

“Breakfast is ready.” He rolls off the bed and walks towards the door. “Come on,” he says with a little too much joy in his voice. “And don’t touch yourself. I’m not done with you.”

“You said you wouldn’t tease!” Aidan complains, but Dean just laughs and walks away.

Aidan considers sulking for a while, but he can smell bacon and eggs, so, after allowing himself a moment to cool down, he follows Dean into the kitchen to find a full English breakfast waiting. There are rashers and eggs, indeed, but also beans and mushrooms, roasted tomatoes and sausages. Everything looks greasy and absolutely gorgeous.

“You made boxty?” Aidan squishes his face between his palms, when he notices the potato pancakes. He is simply shocked at the amount of work Dean did for him. And even more impressively, he got everything done before breakfast. He pulls Dean into a hug. “You’re insane!”

“I’ve been told,” Dean laughs. “Now sit before it gets cold.”

Aidan does as he is told and they have breakfast together, feeding each other and by the time they are done, Dean is sitting in Aidan’s lap.

“Thank you so much. It was just like home. Except that I never got one of these breakfasts for my birthday. My Mam made it on Christmas Morning and sometimes on New Year’s, you know, for the hangover.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean grins. He turns around in Aidan’s lap so that he is straddling him.

“You said you weren’t done with me before. Do you want to pick up where we left?”

“We just ate. We should wait an hour or so,” Dean says, even though his hand is rubbing Aidan through his shorts again.

“I think that only applies to swimming.”

“Oh, it definitely applies to what I have in mind for you.” Dean raises his eyebrows suggestively and squeezes Aidan just enough to make him take in a deep breath. “I’ll clean up a bit. Why don’t you go and take a shower or get on the Playstation. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

“I can help you,” Aidan offers half-heartedly and is relieved when Dean shoos him out of the kitchen. He never cooks for two reasons. One, he can’t cook and two, he hates cleaning up after, so he avoids doing both, if he can.

“And don’t touch yourself!” Dean calls after him.

“But it’s hard!”

“I can see that, Sweetie, but trust me it’s going to be worth it.”

 

Aidan takes Dean’s suggestion to go on the Playstation. He usually plays with Dean as a team, but since Dean isn’t available, he plays by himself and he is slaying the level. He never made it this far in the game and even though he doesn’t want to point any fingers, the evidence suggests that Dean sucks at fighting supernatural creatures. 

Dean sits down on the arm of the sofa next to Aidan and watches him for a moment.

“Damn,” he says impressed. “You are good at this. Play with yourself often?”

“Haha, that joke is never not funny,” Aidan replies, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“Why don’t you finish this round?” Dean begins, tracing his index finger along the collar in the back of Aidan’s T-Shirt. “I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re done.”

Aidan looks from the TV to Dean and back. He walks his character into the open in the middle of the fight he was just winning and doesn’t even wait for the words “game over” to appear on the screen before the controller hits the floor. 

“Round’s finished, let’s go.” He grabs Dean’s hand and pulls him along into the bedroom.

“You know, for someone who gets to have sex almost every single day, sometimes even twice, you are ridiculously excited,” Dean notices with an affectionate smile.

“I don’t always get to have sex with you,” Aidan says a little sheepishly. Sure, he has sex more often than the average fella and he gets to fulfil a lot of fantasies, some of them even his own, but all the men in the world couldn’t give him what Dean can. They don’t make him feel loved and cared for like Dean does.

Dean kisses him lightly on the mouth and then looks at him with an unusually stern expression.

“Okay, now, it’s your birthday, so I will either put you over my lap, take off those shorts and give you a birthday spanking. Thirty-one swats for thirty-one years, or I will have extra special birthday sex with you. Your choice.”

“Let me think abou… sex.” Aidan leans in for another kiss but Den stops him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Aidan replies confidently.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Dean pushes Aidan onto the bed. “Take your clothes off.”

He loves it, when Dean takes control. There is something incredibly sexy about that. He thinks that it might just be the fact that Dean is such a gentle soul.

Dean undresses as well and then gestures for Aidan to lie down on his stomach. He climbs onto the bed as well and sits across Aidan’s back. He grabs a bottle of massage oil from the nightstand and pours some on Aidan’s back.

“God, you’re tight.”

“Thanks.”

“Your back, you egg.” Dean kisses between Aidan’s shoulder blades and continues to massage his back. He takes his time to rub Aidan’s shoulders and work his way down. At some point the switches the massage oil for lube and starts, gently and painfully slowly, to prepare Aidan with his fingers.

“Deeeaan,” Aidan sighs into the pillow when he can’t take the playing and teasing anymore. “Please?”

“Well, since you said please. Again. Your age has made you polite.” Dean fingers him a little bit more, thrusting his fingers into him with a little more ambition, making Aidan almost purr with pleasure, before he moves and helps him get on his hands and knees. Aidan can feel Dean’s weight on top of him, as he nudges him with the tip of his cock, not quite going in yet, just torturing him, making the moment he finally pushes in all the more sweeter. Aidan’s legs spread a little wider instinctively and he sucks in a breath through his teeth, when Dean is finally inside him. It is so good to finally feel Dean inside after being teased all morning. Now he just wants to get fucked hard and quick and Dean seems to get it. He grabs Aidan’s hips to steady them and forcefully rocks into him.

This may not be the expected special birthday sex that lasts for hours, but it is good, it’s great, actually, and Aidan can already tell that he isn’t going to last long. Not now that Dean has wrapped his hand around his cock and strokes it in time with his thrusts. He arches his back, feeling the orgasm coming, just three or four more strokes.

“Hang on,” Dean says, his voice strained. He pulls out and Aidan complains with a groan. “Hang on, I want to look at you, when you come.”

“Aww,” Aidan replies. That is so sweet that he can’t even be mad at Dean for interrupting a potentially great orgasm. He rolls over onto his back and wraps his legs around Dean. He has to admit, this is better. He loves to see Dean like this, a little sweaty and his eyes bright and blue. “You are so sexy.”

Dean leans in and gives Aidan a long and sloppy kiss, before entering him again. He goes slower this time, and it feels a lot more like making love than fucking, but that is also great. Aidan loves how connected he feels to Dean in this position and he loves that they can look at each other and kiss and let the pleasure build up again slowly. It is going to feel so much better like this.

Dean begins to stroke him again and, yeah, this is pretty much bliss. 

“Yes, Dean,” Aidan whispers, his breath is coming out in short little pants and he is almost there. Almost there…

“Ah, sorry,” Dean says sand stops again, making Aidan gasp. “I felt a little lightheaded just now. It must be the heat.” He fans himself with his hand and takes a sip from the glass of water on the nightstand. He smirks and doesn’t seem to feel unwell at all.

“You okay?” Aidan asks anyway, half worried, half frustrated and fully wishing Dean would get it together and deliver what he promised.

“Yeah, I just need a moment. Why don’t we do something else while I catch my breath?”

Dean bends over to reach under the bed and comes up with a small dildo and Aidan can’t help wondering if he planned the entire thing. One does not simply reach under the bed and come up with a dildo that is just perfect for everything except giving an orgasm. It is too skinny and too smooth to give any real pleasure, but it vibrates just enough to keep things interesting. Aidan would use this toy only to play, if there is still too much time left on the clock and he doesn’t want a guy to come yet.

His eyes narrow as he watches Dean prepare the toy with another condom and lube. The rule that everything has to get a condom has become kind of blurry when it comes to fingering and blowjobs, but Aidan still insists on using condoms during sex and on toys, since he uses them with his clients as well.

The dildo feels quite nice going in, but it doesn’t create the friction Aidan craves, even when set to a low buzz.

With his free hand, Dean starts to stroke Aidan’s cock again, before he takes it in his mouth. The blowjob is unhurried and sloppy at first, but he picks up speed after a while. Aidan watches the way Dean’s mouth stretches around his cock so beautifully. Dean looks up at him occasionally and every time their eyes meet, he looks so naughty it makes Aidan shudder with pleasure.

Humming and moaning and bobbing his head even faster, Dean seems to be determined to finish him with that blowjob and there is nothing wrong with that, Aidan thinks. It is actually really hot. His body is tense and he feels a little shaky from being denied to come for so long and his hands flutter clumsily around Dean’s head. 

He honestly sobs, when Dean pulls away from him. His body twists and curls up and he doesn’t care, he is going to finish this himself, but Dean won’t even let him do that. He grasps Aidan’s arms and pins them to his chest.

“I want to come with you,” he whispers with a wicked look in his eyes and licks into Aidan’s mouth. “Please, Aidan. Make me come with you.”

He is trembling with need underneath Dean’s body, whimpering with every breath he takes, but, yes, he nods his head, barely noticeable. Dean grins happily and gives him another long, wet kiss.

“Here is what we’re going to do.” Dean toys with Aidan’s nipples while he speaks and the vibrator is still buzzing torturously low inside him, so that Aidan is barely able to focus. “I’m going to count to ten, right, and when I’ve reached ten, we both come. Together. Doesn’t that sound good?”

Aidan nods again, unable to do anything else. He is completely at Dean’s mercy and it would make Aidan uneasy to be in this position, but Dean’s voice is soft, his eyes are caring and his hands are gentle, when he runs them through Aidan’s hair and he feels like he can fully trust Dean.

Dean’s free hand removes the vibrator in one smooth motion and he immediately replaces it with his cock. Aidan makes a deep, guttural noise at the feeling of being stretched and filled again.

“One,” Dean says and begins to move. “Just imagine how great it is going to be when you’re finally allowed to let go,” he whispers between kisses and little nibbles on Aidan’s bottom lip.

Aidan lets his head roll back onto the pillow and clenches his teeth. He can do this. Dean is right, once they’ve reached ten it is going to feel amazing.

“Two.”

Oh dear god, he _can’t_ do this. Dean is counting too slow and fucking him too eagerly. Desperate for something to hold on to, Aidan uncurls his hands from his chest runs his fingers over Dean’s body. He wraps his hands around Dean’s thighs and squeezes hard enough to make Dean gasp out the next number.

“Three.”

Dean curls his hand loosely around Aidan’s cock for feather light stroke. It isn’t enough! He hisses as he sucks in breath after breath through clenched teeth. 

“Please, Dean!”

“Four.”

“I can’t!”

“Do you want to stop?” Dean slows down and Aidan lets go of his thighs. He grabs the sheets, twisting them in his hands and he jerks and spasms. He has lost all control over his body, and his response to Dean’s question is a whining that is close enough to a “no” that Dean picks up the speed again.

“Five.”

They are halfway there. He almost made it he just has to hold on for a few more moments. Dean is rocking into him so hard, his head is banging against the headboard, but he hardly notices. The urge to simply give up and let go is overpowering. He could end this right now if he just let go, but when he looks at Dean he can’t. He can’t disappoint him.

“Six?” He asks, pawing at Dean’s face helplessly, when it takes an awfully long time for Dean to say it.

“Yes, six.”

“Ah, ffff…”

Aidan grabs Dean’s wrist and takes his hand away from his cock. One more touch and he is going to explode. Instead he puts Dean’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were a dick. It distracts him from burning in his entire body for a few seconds, but it still isn’t enough.

“Seven.”

He is screaming, _screaming_ into Dean’s shoulder. It hurts too much. He can’t take it anymore and yet, Dean keeps going and Aidan keeps holding on.

“Eight.”

There are tears collecting in the corner of his eyes and Aidan screws them shut. He covers them with his arm to let them fall unseen. 

“Nine.”

Dean slows down. He reaches out to Aidan’s face and forces him to look at him.

“We can stop now if this is too much for you.”

Aidan wants to break down into a sobbing mess at that point. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, why Dean would torture him like this. 

“No, no, no, please. Please, Dean.” He reaches for Dean’s face with his trembling hands, feeling like a drowning man finding a piece of floating wood and strokes his cheeks clumsily with his thumbs. “Please don’t.”

Dean kisses him once again and then thrusts a few more times.

“Ten.”

The orgasm lasts for hours. For days. Forever. Aidan’s body flushes hot and cold as the waves run through him over and over. He clamps his arms and legs around Dean, holding on so tight that he would have been worried to hurt him, had he not lost the ability to think. His ears are ringing and the world before his eyes is turning white for a few seconds. 

His body goes completely limp after that and he drops down onto the bed like a dead weight. His breath is coming in ragged rasps and he is only vaguely aware that Dean is climbing off him carefully.

“Are you okay, Babe?” Dean asks and once the world stopped spinning and the aftershocks subsided, Aidan nods his head very gently. He thinks he is okay. He has never felt anything even close to this and he has to take inventory of his body before he can answer confidently that he is okay. 

“Do you want to clean yourself up a bit?”

Aidan shakes his head. That seems like a lot of work. Much more than he is capable of doing.

“Here, drink this.” Dean presses the glass of water into Aidan’s hands and he takes a sip. The cool liquid helps a lot. He had no idea how dry his mouth was. 

“Better?” Dean stops cleaning Aidan’s stomach with wet wipes to look at him questioningly.

“Hm,” Aidan replies and can’t keep a smile off his face. He pulls Dean back into his arms and holds him close. “You complete arsehole.”

“I love you, too.”


	7. You and me, Baby, ain’t nothing but mammals

Kids these days are a nuisance and the one sitting on Aidan’s bed right now is a prime example. He is moody, monosyllabically and seems to hold a grudge against the world in general and Aidan in particular, simply for trying to strike up a conversation.

He knows very well, that he wasn’t an angel himself at eighteen, but Aidan can’t remember ever being such an impolite little shite and getting away with it. But Blake is a client and he doesn’t pay Aidan for a lesson in etiquette, no matter how desperately it is called for.

Aidan stands before Blake, peels off his t-shirt slowly and tosses it aside carelessly. Blake has the decency to look up from his iPhone long enough to let his eyes travel over Aidan’s chest. He hasn’t let go of his mobile since he arrived and Aidan honestly wonders if he set it down for his shower or if they make them waterproof now. He drops down onto his knees and reaches for the towel around Blake’s hips.

“Hang on. Can we put on some music first?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want to look at my CDs?”

“CDs? Mate, how old are you?” Blake looks at him with an expression of complete confusion. Maybe he is a bit old fashioned, but Aidan thinks it is sexier to walk across the room, pick out a CD and play it, rather than fumbling with his phone, select a playlist and check his emails at the same time. He even thought about getting a record player, but decided against it. It would have been distracting.

Blake starts music on his phone.

“It that Rammstein?” It takes a lot of self-control and professionalism to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“If that’s too hard for you, I’m sure I can download some Taylor Swift real quick.”

Under protest, Aidan takes the phone away from Blake, turns down the volume a bit and sets it down on the nightstand.

“What did you do that for?” Blake reaches for the mobile again, but Aidan stops him.

“Because I’m here and nothing in there is going to do this to you.” He wraps his hand around the back of Blake’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

“I’ve been chatting with this guy and he is totally into me, so you’re wrong.”

“You just gave me a bunch of cash,” Aidan tries again, a little less delicately.

Blake opens his mouth for another smartarse response, but changes his mind and mumbles something about the money being his Dad’s anyway.

“Go on, then. We ain’t got all night,” he says finally and Aidan kisses him again, just to shut him up.

He removes the towel and peels the condom that was tucked under the waistband of his pants out of the wrapper. He puts in on Blake and moves his mouth down to kiss the inside of his thighs and smiles to himself for his success at leaving Blake unable to talk. There are only moans coming from him now.

He opens his mouth wide, intending to take him in completely, when Blake suddenly grasps his shoulder and pushes him away.

“No, no, wait! Stop!” he manages to get out, but it is too late. His face scrunches up and his fingers dig into Aidan’s shoulder as he comes.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, once he has caught his breath. He looks rather disappointed as he turns away, pretending to search for his clothes. “Good job, mate. Cheers. You can go now.”

“It’s my flat,” Aidan reminds him dryly.

“Well then wait outside while I get dressed,” Blake snaps and Aidan gets up to leave. He doesn’t have to let an eighteen year old kid speak to him like that, just because his father happens to have money. But something stops him from leaving. He hasn’t thought about it before, but it just dawns on him that this kid is a virgin. And even if he is despicable and irritating, he still deserves a first time that is memorable. With his back turned to Blake, he closes his eyes and counts to ten.

“Wait,” Aidan sighs and can’t believe that he is doing this. “We still have most of the hour left. Why don’t we take a short break and try again a little later?”

Blake shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t care, but now that Aidan has figured it out, he can see some vulnerability behind the mask.

“Has anyone ever given you a massage?” He doesn’t even wait for a reply, since he knows the answer already. “Go on, lie down on your stomach.”

Blake moves onto the bed, but lies on his side, which Aidan takes as a hint to lie next to him. If the kid wants to cuddle, that’s fine as well.

“I bet you’re going to tell everyone you know about this, right? Like, when you’re having drinks. Having a laugh about me.”

Aidan smiles at Blake reassuringly and brushes his thumb over his cheek.

“No,” he says earnestly. He is going to tell Dean about this, sure, but not to make fun of Blake. “And, hey, no one’s first time is that great. Mine wasn’t.”

“It wasn’t my first…” Blake makes a face, knowing that he can’t hide his inexperience any longer, and then looks at Aidan doubtfully. “Yeah? What was it like?”

 

_Technically Aidan didn’t lie to his parents when he said that there would be adults at Killer Keegan’s birthday party. Killer is turning eighteen, so technically he is an adult. Aidan may however, have slightly strayed away from the truth when asked if these adults - that were present - were responsible. Just a little bit. He knows for a fact that one of Killer’s mates is training to be a bus driver, which makes him seem like a highly responsible person. In general. It was enough to convince his mother to let him go, although she seems very close to changing her mind now._

_“You’re only sixteen,” she reminds him as he puts on his shoes as quickly as possible. He has made it this far, he is almost out the door. He has been on his best behaviour for the last week, helped around the house more than usual, bribed is brother to keep his mouth shut about anything he might hear about the party at school, he didn’t get into any fights and hardly gave any cheek to his parents at all. He is not going to blow all his hard work by saying something dumb now. He just smiles and says he knows, even though he finds it exceedingly insulting to be called “only sixteen”. The way he sees is, he is _almost_ eighteen._

_He kisses his mother’s cheek goodbye, grabs his coat and is out of the door before she has a chance to mess up his hair or try to fix the holes in his jeans last minute. Already late, he rushes down the stairs and heads towards the end of the street where Róisín is waiting for him. She has her bare arms wrapped around herself and hops from one foot to the other to keep warm._

_“It’s freezing,” she complains and when she hugs him, her frail, freckly arms sneak under his coat for some warmth. “What took you so long?”_

_“Couldn’t get away.” He makes a face. “But I told you, my parents like you. You could have just come in.”_

_She raises an eyebrow questioningly._

_“And let them see me like this? I think that might have cooled their feelings towards me.”_

_“I like it,” Aidan says. She is wearing combat boots, an extremely short skirt and a Nirvana T-Shirt that she cut strategically in several places to show more skin and more cleavage. It is completely inappropriate to wear in November and would have been complete rubbish to convince Aidan’s parents that the party is going to be innocent._

_“Yeah? I had to sneak the clothes past me dad and then change behind Mrs Dunne’s bins. I also nicked this from him. For Killer.” She smiles mischievously and opens her handbag to pull out a bottle of Clontarf 1014. It is a cheap whiskey that is bought – or stolen - primarily to "get the job done". "He’s shitfaced already, so I bet he won’t even know it’s gone.”_

_“We’re bringing a gift?” Aidan tries to sound like he doesn’t care as they start walking. The fact is, Killer fancies Róisín and that is the only reason why they were invited to the party. As much as Aidan likes to think it he was invited because he is kind of mates with Killer’s younger brother Kenny, he knows it isn’t true. He is only allowed to come because of Róisín and Aidan feels rather insecure about competing with a guy whose real name, Kieran, is all but forgotten. Even some of the teachers at school call him Killer. He thinks that bringing a gift - a good gift, too - could give the impression that she cares about him as well._

_“It’s his birthday,” she replies simply and looks up at him with her heavily rimmed eyes daring him to say another word about it. She has told him again and again that she could never date a guy like Killer, but there is a sparkle in her eyes every time his name is mentioned._

_Aidan wanders around the party, looking for Róisín, when someone grabs his arm._

_“Aidoo!” Kenny, Killer’s younger brother, looks up at Aidan from where he is sitting on the stairs with a lopsided grin. “If you can still stand you haven’t had enough to drink!”_

_He pulls Aidan’s hand to get him to sit down next to him, but due to a lack of co-ordination Aidan falls into his lap._

_“Or maybe you’ve had too much,” Kenny’s grin widens, while Aidan scrambles to get off of him._

_For Aidan it’s the first time there is alcohol and absolutely no supervision. His Dad sometimes lets him have a half a pint of Guinness after picking him up from football practise or a taste of whiskey when he is in a particularly good mood, even though his mother doesn’t approve. “A boy needs to learn these things,” his Dad would simply say and that usually settled it. Now, Aidan has definitely had a lot more than a taste. His coke has been topped up with JD so many times that the colour is more like weak ice tea than coke and tastes rather unpleasant, but generally he doesn’t think that he has had too much to drink. His body is tingling pleasantly and he feels like there is no limit to what he can do. He could get up and dance or he could go and find Róisín and tell her that he really, really wants to have sex with her. Right now. They agreed to wait until they are both sure, but the truth is, he has never been more sure of anything in his life._

_“I have to find Rosie,” he says, half to himself, half to Kenny, but gets side-tracked, by Kenny pouring more drink in his cup._

_The liquid is clear and mixed with the JD he already has it tastes vile and makes him want to spit it back into his cup. Logic tells him that if a little alcohol makes him feel this good, a lot more must make him feel even better, so he swallows, gagging audibly._

_“You good?”_

_“Nah, I’m grand,” he says and means it. He feels brilliant, even if he has to work hard to keep a straight face when he takes another sip._

_“Yeah, you are. You’re all kinds of grand. You’re my best mate, Aiday. I love you!” Kenny pulls him into a big hug that saves Aidan the trouble of coming up with a reply. Actually, he feels quite fond of Kenny today as well. Everyone is so great and funny today, everyone could be his new best mate, so why not Kenny?_

_Although, he still feels a little uncomfortable around Kenny. They are both on the athletics team and a few weeks back, Aidan was benched during practise after tripping over a hurdle. While he sat there, nursing his banged-up pride and his skinned knees, he had time to watch the other boys run, jump, stretch and goof around. Somehow his eyes kept wandering back to Kenny, who had seemingly overnight turned from a gangly, pimply kid into a pretty decent looking lad with toned legs, a broad chest and obviously very little room to spare in the front of his gym shorts. There was a rumour about Kenny around school that he had part of his dick cut off because it was too large but no one had ever been able to verify that. Kenny always waited until everyone was gone to take a shower after training. However, from what he saw, they weren’t very successful if they did cut anything off. The bulge in Kenny’s shorts was huge and kind of fascinating. When Kenny caught him staring, he winked, making Aidan look away quickly and shrink into his blue school-hoodie. Ever since he has been feeling a little self-conscious around Kenny._

_“They didn’t cut it off,” Kenny says, making Aidan’s mouth fall open and wonder if he said that out loud and how much of it he said out loud. “Just the tip.”_

_“But…” Aidan tries to make sense of it, but it just sounds too awful to even think about it. “The tip is the best part!”_

_“They only took the skin. It was too tight. Made it tough to wank,” Kenny explains, clearly amused._

_Aidan takes another drink from his cup, thinking about that. Yeah, he may have heard about that, actually, but he has tried to erase most of the things poor 70 year old Mr. Ward talked about during sex ed. He tried hard to make STIs and menstruation fun and approachable for horny teenagers, but overall the entire thing was just too damn awkward. Basically he only remembers that if you get a girl pregnant you marry her and that neither cling film nor tin foil from your lunch sandwich make a very effective contraceptive._

_“That’s okay then, I guess,” Aidan says, even though he is still on the fence about it._

_“Wanna see it?” Kenny moves his leg, so that his thigh is pressed against Aidan’s. His first impulse is to laugh, because the question is so odd, but his interest is sparked. He read on some website that it’s perfectly normal to think about other girls, even if you have a girlfriend, and also to think about boys from time to time and that it’s only natural to be curious about these things. The website also said that it is totally cool to experiment and it makes sense. How can you be sure that you definitely don’t like something if you never gave it a go? Plus, he’s just going to look and that doesn’t mean anything weird. “Come on, have a laugh.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Finish your drink.” Kenny takes a few gulps directly from the bottle, while Aidan raises his cup to his mouth once again. The taste doesn’t get any better, so he gives up halfway through and sets the cup down. Kenny doesn’t comment on it, instead he gets up wobbly, pulling Aidan to his feet with him._

_They stumble up the stairs to Kenny’s room, but they find it already occupied when Kenny opens the door. The goofy grin on Aidan’s face freezes, when he notices the girl’s long, red hair tumbling over the edge of the bed. That is supposed to be_ his _hair. And the boobs that are very visible are supposed to be_ his _boobs. And the place between her legs from which Killer’s face comes up, that is supposed to be_ his _place, because that girl is_ his _girlfriend!_

_“Get the fuck out!” Killer barks at them, but Aidan takes a step into the room. He knows he can’t take Killer in a fight, but he will try. He’s not afraid of that bastard!_

_“Get off my…” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because Kenny has grabbed him and wrestles him out of the room._

_“Sorry, man,” he says to Killer and shuts the door._

_“That’s my girlfriend in there!” Aidan shouts angrily, but Kenny just puts a calming hand on his chest._

_“Let it go, mate, it’s done.”_

_“That’s my girlfriend,” Aidan repeats, while Kenny is pushing him into another bedroom, which has the names Keelin and Kelly in pink and purple letters on the door. He switches on a strand of fairly lights that bathe the room in a soft glow and dance before Aidan’s eyes. Everything is kind of blurry, but he still notices the incredible amount of pink and flowers and glitter in the room. He gets pushed towards the bed and buries his head in his hands as soon as he sits down._

_“If you’re gonna cry about it,” Kenny begins and is interrupted immediately._

_“I wasn’t!”_

_“Look, if you’re gonna cry,“ Kenny says again, a little impatiently, “I’m not gonna shag you.”_

_Aidan looks up so abruptly it makes his head spin._

_“Y-You, you… W-What?” When was that decided? When has that even been an option? And why the hell does the idea make his stomach flutter with excitement? “We can’t do that!”_

_“Why not?”_

_Aidan stares at Kenny and tries to come up with a good reason. It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s supposed to be romantic and meaningful and with someone he cares about. Then again, the person he cares about is in the other room, getting fucked by Killer Keegan. And the flowers and the twinkling lights are pretty much as romantic as it gets._

_“Ah. I’m not, you know, uhm… gay?” That is a great reason. He only wishes he could have said it a little more convincingly._

_“Are you saying that I am?” Kenny sits down next to Aidan who stutters something unintelligible. Of course he would never dare to accuse Kenny of being gay, but the situation kind of makes it seem like he might be. “The way I see it, we’re just two incredibly horny lads helping each other out. Friendly-like, yeah?”_

_Kenny is incredibly close. So close that Aidan can feel the warmth radiating from him._

_“Yeah,” Aidan whispers, even though his mouth is dry and his heart is thumping in his chest. It is enough reassurance for Kenny to lean over. Aidan feels the kiss before he even fully realised that it was happening._

_It is basically the same as kissing Róisín, but completely different at the same time. Kenny doesn’t taste or smell anything like her. He is a lot more forceful and hungry and doesn’t hold back. Aidan tentatively wraps a hand around his arm and he can feel the taut muscles under the skin. There is nothing delicate or fragile about Kenny and Aidan really likes that._

_He feels lightheaded and out of breath, when they break apart._

_“So, what now?” he asks rubbing his cheek nervously. The kiss was mind-blowing. It left him wanting more and he can only imagine what else there is yet to come. Plus, he is feeling brave and come to think of it, this is the absolute right time for it to happen. This is great! Put a poster on the school notice board, Aidan Turner is finally losing his virginity._

_“What do you think?” Kenny asks and kisses him again, just as passionate as before. He pushes Aidan down onto the bed and kneels over him without ever breaking their kisses. He is clearly a lot more experienced than Aidan and it makes him nervous about doing something stupid on the one hand, but on the other hand, it reassures him that nothing is going to go horribly wrong if at least one of them knows what he’s doing._

_Kenny sits up and looks down on Aidan slightly cross-eyed, with a loopy grin on his face and then struggles out of his clothes. He actually kind of falls off the bed when he tries to get rid of his trousers and they both laugh way too much about it until Aidan’s brain catches up with the fact that Kenny is now completely naked and crawling back onto the bed._

_He doesn’t know where to look at first, but Kenny makes it very clear, what he wants Aidan to check out. While making wooshing lightsaber sound effects, he twists his hips, so that his cock swings from side to side like._

_“Hold still,” Aidan says, reaching out his hand, almost touching, but not quite daring to. “You promised I could have a look.”_

_Kenny stops moving and Aidan leans in a little closer, fascinated. His cock is pointing up, large and veined and certainly looking out of the ordinary with the piece of skin that is supposed to cover the tip gone._

_Hesitatingly, he reaches out again, but this time he dares to wrap his hand around Kenny’s cock. Even though the alcohol has given him courage, part of him is still expecting that there is some kind of misunderstanding or joke here and that Kenny will punch him. But he doesn’t. Instead he makes a little noise in the back of his throat which encourages Aidan to give him a little stroke. He knows he isn’t supposed to, but he finds this a lot more exciting than that one time he got to slip his hand between Róisín’s legs, under the skirt and inside the panties and everything. He had no idea what to do down there and aborted the exploratory mission pretty much right away. With this he has had at least some degree of experience._

_“Wanna give it a kiss?” Kenny asks, a little out of breath. Aidan looks at him wide eyed and shakes his head quickly. No way._

_Kenny laughs out loud and mutters something that sounds like “keep going then”, while he leans over to unbutton Aidan’s shirt. With more drunken struggling and help from Aidan, they manage to get his clothes off as well._

_As his shirt comes off, Aidan self-consciously puts his arm across his chest. Kenny is practically hairless from the waist up, while Aidan recently started growing hair all over and he feels very ambivalent about it. On the one hand, he thinks it makes him look like a man, but on the other, he knows that girls think hairy chests are gross and unacceptable._

_He looks up at Kenny to see if Kenny is staring at him, if he finds him unattractive, but, surprisingly, Kenny is looking at his face._

_“’m not queer, you know?” Kenny says and Aidan nods. Of course he knows that. “You won’t tell anyone about this, right?” Aidan shakes his head this time. It’s not like he is going to go home and say, “hey Mam, guess what I did”. There isn’t anyone he_ could _tell about this, so there is really nothing to worry about._

_“You gonna say anything at all?” Aidan’s face breaks into a nervous smile and he nods again. He just doesn’t really trust his voice. He clears his throat._

_“Uhm, have you done this before?”_

_“Loads of times,” Kenny says, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, even though it sounds more like “I tried one and a half times” to Aidan. “You’ll love it.”_

_“Cool,” Aidan says and inhales Kenny’s scent, when he leans over him._

_“There is some lotion in here somewhere,” Kenny mumbles, while rifling through the small chest of drawers next to the bed._

_“What is that for?” Aidan thinks he knows. He isn’t completely clueless, but he wants to hear it from Kenny, just to check if they are on the same page after all._

_“Oh, well, Keelin has really dry skin, so…” He loses his train of thought when Aidan starts chuckling. “You’re a fecking gobshite, Turner.”_

_There is no real harm behind the insult, as Kenny is drunkenly giggling as well. He finds the lotion at last, tosses it onto the bed and grabs the bottle of Vodka he has brought upstairs with him._

_“Here, drink some more of this so it won’t hurt so much.”_

_Aidan takes the bottle and drinks. It scares him that Kenny thinks he can’t take the pain without drinking and he wonders how bad it is going to be. He even briefly considers stopping altogether, but he has come too close to quit. Also, Kenny is very, very hot and Aidan is incredibly horny. Overall, it’s an ideal combination, really._

_The Vodka burns in his mouth, but he bravely swallows._

_“That’s enough,” Kenny takes the bottle away. “Now turn around.”_

_Aidan rolls over onto his stomach and after a bit of pushing and shoving they are both comfortable on the small bed._

_“Okay, I’m gonna get my fingers in first, so be cool, right?”_

_“No. That, no.” Aidan shakes his head, horrified at the thought. He wishes that there was more hugging and kissing and touching, but the romantic, sweet and gentle kind, not the kind where Kenny puts his fingers inside him. “That’s really not necessary.”_

_“Yeah, it is.” Kenny sounds confident about it and it makes Aidan feel reassured until the first finger goes in. It doesn’t hurt, it is just wrong and the way Kenny moved his finger in an out doesn’t make it any better. It feels like hours to Aidan, even though it is probably more like ten seconds before Kenny adds a second finger._

_“Do you like that?” Kenny asks and Aidan doesn’t even have to turn around, he can hear the grin on Kenny’s face._

_“Uh-huh,” he replies. He doesn’t_ hate _it. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing and “oh my god, please let everything be clean!”, but there is some weird pleasure in it as well. If he pushes back against Kenny’s hand, there is something there._

_“Tell me what you want.” Kenny leans over him to whisper into Aidan’s ear. His breath is heavy with alcohol and it makes Aidan want to turn away on the one hand, but he also wants to kiss Kenny again. He figures that it isn’t what Kenny wants to hear, so he doesn’t say anything._

_“Do you want this?” Kenny removes his fingers and rubs his cock between Aidan’s buttcheeks._

_“Okay,” Aidan replies and realises that it doesn’t sound very convincing. “Yeah, I want that.”_

_He can hear Kenny fumbling around with the lotion._

_“Get up a little bit.” Aidan gets on his hands and knees and then there is tremendous pain as Kenny pushes his cock in. Aidan’s eyes snap shut and he tries to muffle the whimpers that come from his mouth with the pillow, but he can’t stop them from coming. He feels like he has very little control over his body in general and he feels that he is losing the fight to stay up. His upper body collapses back onto the bed, but he doesn’t care. At least that part of him is comfortable now. His arse is still in the air and he probably looks like a cat in heat. The thought makes him chuckle stupidly. At least he is getting fucked, so that’s something._

_He turns his head a little to see a stuffed unicorn stare back at him. He is fascinated by the way it spins in front of his eyes and wonders how it does that. Then Kenny starts moving inside him and everything else around him becomes irrelevant. The unicorn, the Little Mermaid pillowcase, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone on the nightstand all but disappear, as the feeling of getting torn open takes over. The pain is intense and all Aidan can do is hold on to the pillow and keep his eyes shut tightly. He knows the high pitched keening he hears is coming from him, but he has no idea what to do about it._

_Kenny gasps nonsense into his ear, but Aidan doesn’t hear any of it. He is shaking and writhing and hardly notices when Kenny grips his hips harder and thrusts into him faster. He only snaps back to reality, when Kenny stops moving altogether._

_“’s wrong?” Aidan asks relieved for getting some rest, but also worried that he is doing something wrong. His mouth doesn’t work properly and makes him sound like an idiot._

_“That was amazing,” Kenny brushes his hand affectionately over Aidan’s thigh._

_“Was?” Aidan buries his head in his arms. He is tired, and aching, but somehow still ragingly hard. “’s over?”_

_“Yeah,” Kenny says and starts to pull out. Pulling out is even worse than going in. To Aidan it feels like he is shitting himself. He thinks he should be mortified, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s done, it’s over. He is no longer a virgin, thanks to Kenny Keegan. He doesn’t know how he feels about that yet, but he doesn’t have time to think it through. All of a sudden he feels cold and sweaty at the same time. His head is spinning and he has a hiccough that comes dangerously close to dry heaving._

_“Do you want me to…” Kenny makes a shaking gesture with his hand, the universal sign for jerking off, but Aidan shakes his head slowly. He feels queasy all of a sudden and he thinks that it may come from the pain and the shagging and the fact that Kenny is a bloke. What the fuck was he thinking?_

_“Have to go,” he mumbles, knowing that he has about thirty seconds to get out of the house and be sick in someone’s front yard or throw up into a little girl’s Hello Kitty rubbish bin._

_“Don’t worry, next time’ll be better,” Kenny says, watching as Aidan struggles to get into his jeans. Aidan gives him a noncommittal groan in return, knowing already that he is never ever going to do this again._

 

“And then what happened?” Blake stares at Aidan expectantly.

“What do you mean, what happened?” Aidan asks, laughing. “Acute alcohol poisoning is what happened.” The rest of the night is completely wiped from his memory, but he remembers the next morning all too well. He remembers how ashamed he felt, puking his guts out, his bottom sore and leaking Kenny’s spunk. Humiliated and terrified that his parents would somehow know what he had done. He swore to them tearfully that he would never drink again. A promise he kept until New Year’s.

“No! You know what I mean!”

“Well, neither Kenny nor I were gay,” Aidan gives Blake a meaningful look, “but we did it again on New Year’s Eve and then again and again. Then our team went to a competition in Cork. Overnight and everything and we were caught. Not doing anything, just sleeping. It could have been explained, but Kenny freaked out told everyone that I was gay and coming on to him. Never mind that we were sleeping in _my_ bed, not his.” Aidan pauses for a moment to recall that life-changing moment in his memory. “I was removed from the competition as punishment and my teacher said she would have to talk to my parents. I wanted them to hear it from me first, so I told them the same day and that’s how I came out to them and the rest of the school in a day and a half.”

“What an arsehole.”

Aidan saw Kenny again a few years ago when he was visiting his parents at home. He was married, with two kids and a job as a store manager at a Dunnes Store. He claimed to be happy, but he was incredibly uncomfortable, borderline homophobic, around Aidan and didn’t even want to go for a cup of coffee. Even though Aidan isn’t exactly the poster boy for smart life choices, he is glad that he had the courage to be himself. Yes, it was difficult and he thinks that being gay is a lot easier for kids now that there are equality acts and GLBT characters on pretty much every TV show and celebrities that make being gay not only accepted but also cool. Who wouldn’t want to be on the same team as Neil Patrick Harris and gorgeous Zach Quinto and live like Brian Kinney?

“Nah,” Aidan shakes his head. He still wouldn’t have wanted it any different. “It was just a different time.”

“Seriously, mate, how old are you?”


	8. This is the part when…

Jimmy finally called with some good news and a flat to look at. It’s in Camden, close to the celebrity infested Primrose Hill, which could be good for business, but Aidan doubts that they can afford it. Still, Jimmy made the effort of getting them the appointment to see it, so it would be rude not to go. And it would definitely be a welcome change to look at a decent flat just once. Dean has dragged Aidan all over town, checking out one run-down flat after the other. Most of them too small or too expensive and some of them were small and expensive and disgusting at the same time. Dean’s energy and optimism never once faltered, even at the last place they saw, where there was brown water dripping from the ceiling into a rusty bucket.

It is rare that they have an entire day to spend together, with Dean usually working in the afternoons and Aidan working in the evenings and Aidan can feel the effect of Dean’s attitude on himself. Even though they accomplished nothing, he doesn’t feel like the day is wasted. He actually feels good. Happy. 

The evening is still warm and beautiful, as they walk home from the pub. They stopped for one beer that turned into two, that turned into shots. There was a buy two shots get one free deal and it seemed like a good way to save some money. In theory. 

“Oh, come on!” Aidan shakes his phone impatiently, when he loses his WiFi connection. He is following the semi-final game between Brazil and Germany in the newsticker and so far it seems like some German hacked into the system and simply keeps adding scores for their country.

“I swear, you love that phone more than me,” Dean clings to Aidan and tries to kiss his neck, but Aidan shoves him away playfully. 

“Get off me, you leech,” Aidan laughs and catches Dean’s arm before he can stumble over his own feet. He pulls him close again and drapes his arm around his shoulders as they continue to walk. He slips the phone back into his pocket. There is no hope left for Brazil and for Aidan to win his bet with Graham. He put 50 quid on Brazil to win the game and he already knows that Graham is going to be smug about winning. “You know I love nothing more than you.” The words come out a little mumbled, but he knows that Dean heard him from the way he nestles into Aidan’s arm. He turns his head to kiss the top of Dean’s head. 

Dean hums in agreement and allows his hand to sneak under Aidan’s T-Shirt to stroke his stomach.

“Can we have sex right now?” Dean starts pulling on Aidan’s clothes. Apparently, the beauty of the rare, tender moment is lost on him. 

“No. Dean.” Aidan replies sternly. “God, you’re so horny when you have some drink in you. We can’t have sex on the street.” He bats Dean’s hand away.

“That is so…” Dean pauses to find the right words. “That is so Anglo-Saxon of you.”

“Whoa,” Aidan can’t help but smile at the insult. “There’s nothing Anglo-Saxon about me. I’m part Celt, part Viking.”

Dean stares at Aidan for a moment before cracking up with howling laughter.

“Part Viking,” he gets out while gasping for air. “Oh, my God, you got seasick when we watched the video from Adam and Graham’s honeymoon. The part where they were on that boat, remember?”

“I didn’t get seasick,” Aidan rolls his eyes. “I’m great on boats. I was just slightly under the weather. And it wasn’t because of the boat. That video was so shaky, worse than Blair Witch Project!”

“Uh-huh,” Dean makes, like he doesn’t believe a single word and quickly slips out of Aidan’s arm, when he tries to get him into a playful headlock. “Too slow!”

They keep up their flirtatious banter until Aidan’s building comes into view and just as Dean walks up the three steps leading to the entrance in front of Aidan, someone else comes bursting through the front door. He hits Dean with the door, making him lose his balance and fall.

“Shit!” Aidan is at Dean’s side in a heartbeat. “Are you okay?” He gets an affirmative grunt from Dean and is relieved to see him moving and not extensively damaged, just a little banged up. 

“Hey, what the hell, mate?!” He yells after the guy, hoping to get at least an apology out of him. The man actually stops and turns around. He is wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. A tight tanktop that shows off his muscular upper body and several tattoos that wind around his arms. He looks incredibly familiar and gives Aidan a strange, tight feeling in his chest.

“You said something?”

Hearing the voice and that thick accent connects all the pieces. It is the voice he hears in his dreams, the man he sees when he closes his eyes. The man who came into his home, humiliated him, beat him and raped him. Being face to face with him makes the hair on the back of his neck and all over his body prickle and for a second the urge is almost overwhelming to strike out at him, grab his head and bash it against the kerbside over and over until he causes enough pain to feel some kind of satisfaction. Even though the bastard is built like a tank, Aidan thinks he can take him. He just needs to be quick and fearless, use the blind rage inside him as fuel. He just needs to do it.

Dean’s hand wraps around his wrist tightly.

“I’m okay,” he says quietly, making Aidan snap back to reality. “Sorry, I must have tripped,” he adds, addressing the other man, who takes a provoking step in their direction. He seems to change his mind about a fight, though.

“Yeah, you watch where you’re going, cunt,” he barks and hastily walks away.

“What was that?” Dean asks, when the man is out of sight and he clumsily gets up on his feet. “I’ve never seen you like that, Aidan. It was just a little accident and you were growling. You’re shaking.”

The words reach Aidan only peripherally. His thoughts are racing, getting tangled in each other and turning into one massive knot that he can’t figure out. 

“Come on.” He grabs Dean’s elbow and manhandles him into the building, into safety.

“Aidan, what’s going on? You’re overreacting. I’m really fine.” Dean inspects the skinned palm of his hand with a pout.

Aidan impatiently hits the call button for the lift a few times, but then decides that he can’t wait and pulls Dean up the stairs urgently, despite his confused protests. He just has a very bad feeling and the sooner he can close the door behind them, the better.

Slightly out of breath from sprinting up four flights of stairs, they enter the hallway that leads to Aidan’s flat and the sight that greets them makes Dean gasp and Aidan stop dead in his tracks. 

The door is wide open and obviously broken. Kicked in, with the lock completely smashed.

“Fuck, Aid,” Dean begins and holds him back, when he walks towards the door. “Wait, they might still be in there.”

“No, he’s gone,” Aidan says, his voice blank and remote. He turns around to Dean. “Am I awake?” He needs a second opinion, because he can’t tell the difference anymore between real live and nightmare.

“How do you know that?” Dean asks, but Aidan is confident that Dean will connect the dots soon enough, because he doesn’t want to explain. He can’t.

He leans against the wall for support and slowly slides down until he is a trembling heap on the ground with his knees protectively in front of him.

“Tell me, please, what’s going on.” Dean kneels down next to Aidan, his blue eyes unusually large and searching his face for clues.

“I just want to wake up,” Aidan whispers to himself, before sucking in a deep breath and swallowing all the emotions that threaten to bubble up inside him. 

“You are awake,” Dean replies firmly. “It’s just stuff, anyway, isn’t it? Whatever they stole or broke, it…”

“It’s not about the flat. He can have it and everything inside. Don’t you understand? I just want this to end! I don’t give a fuck about the flat.”

“No I don’t understand. You don’t explain what’s going on and don’t shout at me.” Dean replies, his voice rising as well in response. They stare at each other without blinking for a few seconds that feel a lot longer than they should. Aidan wants to have a go at Dean. He wants to scream and ask why Dean can’t see that he is drowning. Days like these, when they are out having a good time feels like coming up for air, but then he is pulled under water again and he can’t do it anymore. He is tired of swimming. 

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees nothing but stars. He feels like his brain short-circuited and needs to re-boot.

“We need the police,” he mumbles and after he makes the call gestures for Dean to sit next to him and pulls him into his arms in a silent apology. 

 

The police arrive only moments later and allow Aidan and Dean to enter the flat. At first glance it doesn’t look like anything has been stolen at all. Some things have been moved around, the tickets to Amsterdam and a couple of photos have fallen out of a draw and are scattered on the floor, a few glasses have been smashed, but overall, the actual damage isn’t that bad.

Still, Aidan feels like around him the world is set to fast-forward, while he is motionless in the middle of it all. He can’t process how easily Iago can get to him. First the phone call and now this. It never ends.

Even though they are getting a new lock for their door straightaway, the both agree that they shouldn’t spend the night in the flat.

“I’ll just let Anna know that we are both staying over,” Dean says, “although my room is basically a nursery already.”

Aidan rests his forehead against the cool steel of the fridge and closes his eyes. He can’t. He can’t be strong for Dean and pretend like none of this bothers him, but he can’t show Dean that he is scared and desperate for any kind of solution. He doesn’t want Dean to see him like this. There is only one person in London who has seen him at his absolute worst and still loves him.

“You go home. I can’t come with you. If anyone follows me, I don’t want to lead them to a house with a pregnant woman.”

“Aidan, come on, that’s not gonna happen.” Dean wraps his arms around Aidan from behind and rests his forehead against his back.

“I don’t want to risk it. I’ll stay with Adam and Graham tonight.” He tries to give his voice some warmth, make it sound like he doesn’t feel dead inside but judging from the way Dean’s hug tightens, he isn’t sure that he succeeded. “I know you don’t like it, but, please, let’s do this for tonight and come up with a better plan tomorrow, okay?”

Dean nods against his back and lets go of him reluctantly.

 

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” Aidan texts, when he is already in the taxi, heading to Adam and Graham’s house at the other side of London.

“I’m so sorry, Aid! Did you two fight?” The reply comes almost immediately. “I’m just at work, but I’ll let Graham know that you’re coming.”

Aidan is tempted to tell the cabbie to turn around. The last thing he wants to deal with today is Graham’s gloating about the football, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. 

He knocks on the door softly, thinking that Graham might not hear him. Sitting on the stairs in front of the house until Adam gets home seems like a reasonable plan, but apparently, Graham’s hearing is much better than expected. He opens the door with the smirk of superiority he has for Aidan.

“What did you do now, Turn…” He can’t finish his greeting, when he sees Aidan. Instead he steps out of the way. “Come on in, lad.”

His head low, Aidan walks past Graham into the cluttered but cosy little house. He drops his messenger bag that holds a change of clothes and his toothbrush by the door and tries to say something. Even just hello would have been good, but now that he has had time to process the events, the feelings he pushed down start to come up. 

Graham must have noticed, because he seizes Aidan – with no warning at all – and pulls him into a warm, tight embrace. The gesture is the final blow to bring down the crumbling wall Aidan spent weeks building and maintaining. With a whimper clasps onto Graham for support. His sobs are stifled at first, muffled against Graham’s shoulder as he attempts to hide his pain, but his self-control is slipping until his body is shaking with raw, heaving sobs.

The strip of plaster he stuck onto the gaping open wound his attack left is suddenly ripped off and like blood all the anger, fear and despair he tried to keep away come pouring out. It isn’t just crying, it is the last desperate attempt to come up for air from a man drained of all hope.

“I just want to wake up,” he repeats again and again, wanting everything that happened to be nothing more than a long nightmare from which he will wake up eventually.

Graham doesn’t say anything. He is just there, holds Aidan and waits for him to calm down. He isn’t sure if it was minutes or hours until the outpour slows down. He doesn’t feel relieved, he is just too exhausted to continue and reluctantly unwraps his tense arms from around Graham.

“Sorry,” he whispers with his gaze fixed on the mess he made of Graham’s light blue t-shirt. Utterly embarrassed by his breakdown, he attempts to dry his face with the insides of his wrists.

Graham uses his hand to tilt Aidan’s face up lightly. His eyes show more concern and compassion than Aidan ever imagined Graham having for him.

“Better?” he asks and Aidan gives him a nod, a shrug and a shake of his head simultaneously, which sums up pretty well how he feels. The mask of coping he is so used to wearing is gone and now he doesn’t know how he feels. “Now. Why don’t you go ahead and take a nice shower, get your thoughts in order while I boil the kettle?”

Aidan nods his head. The idea of locking himself in the bathroom to pull himself together sounds very appealing. He allows Graham to lead him to the bathroom and get a towel for him, before closing the door with a heavy sigh. 

He doesn’t dare to look in the mirror as he undresses quickly and steps into the shower. The water is painfully hot, but Aidan is beyond caring. He enjoys the way it burns on his skin like a punishment.

There is a small window in the shower with blinds to shield the view from the street. The long cord wound around a hook a few times catches Aidan’s attention. With shaking hands, he reaches out for it. It is thin, but strong. He wraps it around his hand and pulls it tight enough to cut into the skin. He waits until his fingers start tingling unpleasantly, before loosening the cord. He does it again, pulling even tighter this time, while slowly a plan forms in his head.

There is a solution. There is a way to end his pain, right here, right now. He wipes the water off his face and looks around. The shower curtain rod looks like it may come off if you look at it the wrong way. It would never support his weight, but the shower head mounted to the wall looks sturdy enough. All he needs to do is find a pair of scissors, cut the cord off, tie it around the showerhead, wrap it around his neck and… His heart starts to pound in his chest. It is a solution. It may not be the best, he is ready to admit that, but anything is better than having to feel like this for the rest of his life. It is not getting better. Time doesn’t heal this, time makes it worse and he has the opportunity to finally end his suffering. 

It would be quick. It would be painless. He just needs to fall and let the string take care of the rest. Fresh tears well up in his eyes, spill over and drip from his stubbled chin. It would be easy.

He steps out of the shower, water dripping from his body and fanatically pulls out drawers, riffling through them until he finds a pair of nail scissors. They are small, but feel incredibly powerful in his hand. He doesn’t give himself time to reconsider, to think about Dean and his friends and family. He needs to get this done. 

The water is still pouring down, when he snips the cord. He drops the scissors and runs the string through his fingers. The wet polyester squeaks slightly between his hands.

Easy, he reminds himself. 

“Aid? The tea is getting cold.” There is a soft knock on the door. It’s Adam. Hearing his voice makes Aidan cringe and snap out of his head. “Are you about to come out or should I make a fresh cup when you’re ready?”

What if it’s Adam who finds him, when he is done? With all his weird phobias, finding a body in his shower would devastate him. The poor kid would never take a shower again.

“Coming,” he replies and turns the water off. He asks himself if this is rock-bottom. If he could possibly sink any lower. He doesn’t think he can, but on the other hand, he doesn’t see a way out of this black hole either. 

He puts his t-shirt on inside out, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t make a difference. The mask is gone and there is no point pretending that he is fine. It’s obvious that he isn’t. He is entirely numb.

Adam and Graham are both waiting outside the bathroom when he comes out, making him want to turn around and lock himself in again. He doesn’t know how to face them, how to explain why he cut off the blinds-cord. How to explain it away.

He looks down at his hands, before reaching out to Graham, surrendering the piece of string to him. He can see that Graham doesn’t understand the gesture just yet, but he will get it soon enough and he trusts Graham more than anyone else to make the best decisions. 

“I…” He takes a deep breath. This is the hardest thing he ever had to say. “I think I need help.”


	9. With the lights out it’s less dangerous

Vondelpark is Aidan’s favourite place in Amsterdam. The city itself is breath-taking with its mesmerizing network of canals, striking architecture and a chill, welcoming vibe. After exploring everything on foot, from the Van Gogh Museum, which was Dean’s idea, to the red-light district, out of professional curiosity, of course, nothing can beat lazing on the grass by the lake.

Even Dean, who seemed to have made it his mission not to let Aidan out of his sight for the past two weeks, has calmed down. He is sitting close, but with his sketchbook in his lap and Aidan is glad to see it. He doesn’t need a babysitter to watch him constantly. He is very aware of what he did, what he tried to do and there are no words to describe how grateful he is that he was stopped. How grateful he is that Adam and Graham were absolute superstars and managed to find him someone to talk to at one in the morning. How grateful he is to have a handful of people in his life who stubbornly refuse to give up on him.

Two weeks ago he was dead. Emotionally and close to it, physically, and now he is lying in a park full of people with the sun on his face. 

Is he okay? No. That is the honest truth. When he forgets to take his medication, he still wakes up in a blind panic at night, he still doesn’t feel save, doesn’t feel right and he is desperately ashamed, but he has new hope that there might just be the smallest flickering light somewhere in the distance.

When his phone beeps, Aidan pulls his headphones off his head and rolls over onto his stomach. He gives Dean a smile before checking the message. He remembers the look on his face so well, when Dean picked him up from the doctor and Aidan was able to tell him that he was declared “stable enough” to go to Amsterdam. It’s not like anyone could have stopped him anyway, but it was Dean’s request to get the okay from a professional. The beaming smile that lit up his entire face was worth all the hard work trying to convince the doctor that he isn’t - _he isn’t_ \- suicidal anymore.

“Made a reservation for you at Door 74. BEST Cocktails! 10pm. J.”

Aidan googles the bar on his phone. It looks like a place Jimmy would enjoy taking Aidan if he was with him. Expensive, quirky and fun.

“Wanna go?” He hands the phone to Dean. “Jimmy made a reservation for us.”

Dean studies the website for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, if _Jimmy_ wants us to go,” he says with a slight edge to his voice. Aidan knows that Dean is getting more and more fed up with Jimmy’s newfound involvement in their lives and even Aidan has to admit that it is getting a bit ridiculous. Not only did Jimmy buy the flights, he also paid for the hotel and found them the most gorgeous house. 

A warehouse conversion, north of the city centre, but still close enough to work for Aidan. It is a massive space, split on two levels. It is light, with large crittall windows, high concrete ceilings with exposed pipework and roof truss structure. Aidan particularly fell in love with the bare-brick walls in some parts of the house, because they remind him so much of the wall in Dean’s kitchen and, of course, the roof terrace. Overall the house has a very industrial feel to it they both responded to. It ticked all the boxes of everything they need, except for the rent, of course. The weekly rent is almost as much as Aidan and Dean could realistically come up with as a monthly rent and even though Jimmy promised to talk to the landlord, they both said goodbye to the house heavy-heartedly. 

“He just wants you to see what you can’t have, because you chose me over him,” Dean had said darkly when they walked away from the viewing, but Aidan had to disagree. Jimmy isn’t the type to act vicious. He enjoys helping and even though it may feel a little inappropriate at times, Aidan has spent enough time with him to know that there is no harm intended.

“It looks nice,” Dean adds a little more agreeable. “If you feel like going, we’ll go.”

After being wrapped up in blankets and handled with kid’s gloves for two weeks, Aidan thinks he is ready to get out. Maybe not to partly all night long, but going out, even if he is only allowed a “virgin” cocktail, sounds really good, actually.

“Yeah,” he replies and rests his forehead against Dean’s leg. “I want to go.”

 

“I don’t want to go!”

“You don’t want to go because you’re lazy or because you genuinely don’t feel up for it?” Dean asks while buttoning his shirt.

“Lazy,” Aidan admits sheepishly. He made the mistake of lying down after they returned from the park and getting up now seems close to impossible. Taking the medication he was prescribed feels like putting on a strait-jacket every day. It keeps him calm and helps him sleep, but it also makes him feel tired and sluggish throughout the day. “I’d much rather spend the evening in bed with you.” He knows already that he isn’t going to get anywhere with that line of thought. Dean has been noticeable hands off lately. Not that Aidan can blame him. Who would want to make hot, passionate love to a nutter? 

Even though Aidan thinks that going back to doing normal things like doing the grocery shopping, or bantering or even having sex would help, he can’t really say that to Dean who is bending over backwards for him.

He stretches and yawns before he sits up.

“You look very nice,” he says. He loves it when Dean swaps his usual lose fitting and often paint-stained t-shirts and jumpers and cardigans for a simple, tight plaid shirt that actually shows of his body rather than hide it. He is happy to see that dimpled smile from Dean he adores so much. He hasn’t seen enough of that lately, which, he has to admit, is exceedingly his fault.

He gets up from the bed and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, pulling him close. He inhales his freshly-showered scent and he can feel his heartbeat speed up at the familiar smell.

“Now we really have to go. I want to see the jealousy on everyone’s face when I show up with you.”

“Stop it!” Dean actually blushes and it makes him look even more adorable. He brings his hand up to Aidan’s forehead and brushes a handful of curls away. For a moment Aidan thinks, _hopes_ Dean would kiss him, but instead he cups Aidan’s chin and gives him an encouraging smile. “Go on, shower, get dressed. We don’t want to be late.”

Frustrated Aidan lets go of Dean and does as he is told, but somehow he can’t let go of that little moment between them. It felt so awkward and wrong.

“Dean?” It comes out more like “een”, with the toothbrush in his mouth.

“Hm?” Aidan chews on the toothbrush indecisively long enough for Dean to look up from the TV. “Everything okay?” Aidan can see the concern clearly written all over Dean’s face. It is something he desperately wants to change. He doesn’t want or need Dean to worry about him.

“Do you, uhm, do you find me disgusting?” He is vaguely aware of the irony of asking that question with toothpaste running down his chin. “For what I did?”

“What? No!” This time it is Dean getting up from the bed and crossing the distance between them. “Why would you even think that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just…” Aidan shrugs his shoulders annoyed by his lack of words to describe how he feels without sounding like a petulant child. “You don’t want to kiss me anymore or…”

Aidan doesn’t get to finish his thought, because Dean pulls the hand holding the toothbrush away from his mouth and brings their lips together for an unexpectedly heated kiss.

“What else?” He asks, wiping toothpaste of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Nothing,” Aidan manages to say before slinking back into the bathroom. Clearly this wasn’t the best time or way to breach the subject. Dean follows him and Aidan doesn’t need to look at him to know that he just put fuel in a fire he should have left alone.

“I agree, Aidan, I have been distant. You wanna know what?” His voice is unusually hard and challenging. He barely waits for Aidan to nod before he continues. “It’s self-preservation. I thought we had a good thing going. I thought we could trust each other no matter what. But apparently that’s not the case. I understand that you are independent and that you need your own space to deal with things. That’s fine. But when something happens that makes you feel so desperate and miserable that you want to end your own life,” he emphasises the last few words to make his point, “you push me aside instead of talking to me or allowing me to help. Tell me, Aidan, did you even think about me at all?”

Every single word feels like a knife in his heart. He never intended for Dean to suffer. He never wanted that.

“You know what, don’t answer that. I just want you to know that you are all I think about. I think about you all the time, because I love you so fucking much and that is why I can’t be close to you anymore. I can’t. I have to protect myself, because I don’t know what I would do if you were gone!”

Dean’s grip on the sink is white-knuckled, his eyes glinting with rage as he throws the words at Aidan. 

“Well, I’m sorry!” Aidan wishes he could keep his voice calm, but Dean’s sudden outburst has caught him off-guard and the only thing he knows how to do is respond in the same way. “It’s not like I’m going to do it again, so you can relax. I’m not going to inconvenience you any further.”

He should have seen it coming, he definitely deserves it, but the slap to his cheek still takes him by surprise. He touches the skin with his cold hand and finds that he actually enjoys the stinging pain. Finally someone has had the courage to tear away his cotton-ball packaging and it feels great.

They glare at each other. Dean’s chest is rising and falling rapidly with the realisation of what he just did, but before he has the chance to mutter an apology they both know is coming, Aidan seizes his arms and pushes him against the vanity. He doesn’t want an apology. He kind of wants to make Dean angrier and get the things out of him he is usually too civil to say.

“You fucking bastard,” Dean growls, but his hand on Aidan’s waist pulls him closer until Aidan is pressed against him tightly. It isn’t quite obvious, who made the first move, but their lips crash together hard in a kiss that could almost be called an assault. If it was clear who was attacking whom.

Dean slips his head back enough to detach from Aidan, his cheeks are flushed and his lips red from their heated kiss.

“I don’t know if I want to punch you or fuck you,” he admits and Aidan sincerely hopes he will decide on the latter. He leans in to kiss the soft skin between Dean’s ear and his jaw and moves his mouth down from there. Dean shivers when Aidan’s teeth scratch his neck and he feels like that is the moment when the battle is won. Dean grinds into him once, twice, and then starts to tear at Aidan’s belt and the buttons on his jeans with adrenaline-shaky fingers.

Aidan’s hands are all over Dean’s body, feeling the muscles in his back, his arms and his chest. He had no idea how much he missed this, how far he and Dean drifted apart in just a handful of days. How much he missed _Dean_.

He gasps when Dean finally reaches into his pants and grasps him, squeezing and pulling roughly. Aidan claims Dean’s mouth again and moves his hands down to return the favour. He wants to inflict the same pain and pleasure on him and he feels proud of the sounds he gets from Dean in response, muffled between their mouths.

Their grinding and pushing against each other is frantic, almost animalistic, almost out of their minds with the mixture of pleasure, pain and unshared emotion that bursts out of them.

They come clinging to each other, nails digging into each other, wrapped around each other and stay like that, holding on to each other.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” Aidan whispers against Dean’s neck, once he has caught his breath.

“Sorry for slapping you,” Dean replies and pulls away slightly to inspect Aidan’s cheek. The mark his fingers left is all but invisible under the flush brought on by their previous activities.

“No, you were right,” Aidan admits. There is no doubt about that. “So, what now?”

“What do you mean, what now? We get cleaned up.” Dean pulls his hand out from between their bodies, providing evidence that a clean-up is top priority. “Then we go.”

“I meant what about us?” He is honestly afraid to hear what Dean has to say. What if he feels like too much has been damaged between them? “This, what we just did, it didn’t fix anything, did it?”

“No,” Dean leans back heavily against the vanity. “Or maybe it did. I know that you’re working as hard as you can to get better and I think I just realised that it’s better if I trust you with that and worry less about, uh, getting you to a breaking point again. Sorry that sounds so dumb.”

“It actually doesn’t.” He has so had it with everyone - Dean, Adam, Richard, Ben, everyone - treating him like a sick child. He isn’t going to break again. He has been given tools and techniques to talk himself off the ledge, should he find himself there again and he knows now that he can always get support from others if he needs it. He has Dean, he has friends, he has the number of his therapist in his phone. He isn’t alone.

“We are still going to have to talk about all of this somehow. But not today. Today we’re going to have a great time and you are going to have a real drink. You’ve earned it.”

That brightens Aidan’s mood instantly. Until now Dean has watched him like a hawk and hasn’t allowed him to have the smallest sip of anything that might possibly have alcohol in it.

Even though Aidan understands that medication and alcohol shouldn’t be mixed, he really can’t see the disadvantage of doing so. The warning label on his meds says that alcohol may increase the effect of either substance significantly, and that doesn’t sound so bad. He might feel drunk more quickly, in which case the evening would be rather cheap or he might become even more chilled. It sounds like a win-win situation to him.

 

It is a bit of a mission to get into Door 74. They have to find the hidden door and ring the bell. Their names are checked before they are allowed to enter. It all feels a little pretentious to Aidan, but upon finally entering the bar, he thinks the fuss might be necessary to add to the experience.

The bar is rather small and dark and stacked with row upon rows of bottles. It has a relaxed vibe and the slightly older crowd gives of an air of sophistication. 

“So, you’re friends of Jimmy,” the waitress who leads them to their booth asks and Aidan honestly doesn’t know why he is surprised. It seems like everyone knows Jimmy.

“Yeah. We’ve known each other for a few years.”

“When you see him, you must tell him to stop by. It’s been ages.”

“I will,” Aidan promises. He doesn’t need to look at Dean to know that he’s rolling his eyes that Jimmy was brought up once again.

The waitress hands them the drinks menu and promises to take good care of them.

“Did you notice that she looks just like the girl on the cheese wrapper,” Aidan asks in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I’d buy cheese from her.”

“You’d buy cheese from a twitching junkie behind Elephant and Castle station.”

“Well if it’s good cheese…” Aidan shrugs his shoulders as if he would actually ever consider doing that. 

While they wait for their drinks, the waitress brings over two slender shot glasses, filled with layers of brown liquids and topped with whipped cream.

“Friends of Jimmy get free Blowjobs,” she explains, gesturing towards the drinks. 

“Just _friends_ of Jimmy, is it?” Dean mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Aidan to hear over the music.

“He doesn’t expect me to do anything for free. No blowjobs, no sex. This trip is my birthday present!” This jealousy is starting to get a little old, especially coming from Dean who is usually the one believing that everyone is essentially good on the inside.

With a mournful sigh, Aidan pushes his shot over to Dean.

“You don’t want it?” It is more of a statement than a question.

“One drink. We agreed.”

“No, no, no, hold it,” Dean lifts his hand to stop Aidan from talking. “We never agreed on that and I’m not your babysitter anymore, remember? I think you’ve done really well so far and deserve a break, but you can do whatever you want.”

With a grin Aidan slides the drink back to his side of the table. It’s not like he intends to get completely hammered, but his new found freedom comes with twinge of recklessness. A part of him wants to find out how far he can take this medicine and alcohol thing.

“Remember you said that. Just in case.”

They both bend over the table to drink their shot as it is supposed to be consumed, without the use of hands. Aidan, having had a lot of real blowjobs to practice manages to down the whole thing without spilling, whereas Dean ends up with a smudge cream on his face that Aidan is more than happy to kiss away.

 

“Hm. Bucharest. Or is it Budapest?”

“I think those are two different cities,” Dean makes a face at their combined lack of knowledge when it comes to geography. Trying to get the next destination for their alphabetical tour around Europe without google is a lot more challenging than it sounds.

“If you say so.” Aidan takes a sip from his cocktail which is, honestly one of the best drinks he has ever had. Jimmy wasn’t lying about that. “Then there’s Copenhagen and… that’s it for C. I think. And then Dublin!”

“Say it,” Dean pokes him gently. “Come on. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Dublin in Irish.” 

“Dublin in Irish,” Aidan says teasingly and squirms away from Dean with a laugh, when his pokes become a lot more demanding. “Fine. Baile Átha Cliath.”

“Yes!” Dean says, utterly pleased with himself. He often asks Aidan to say random things in Gaelic. What Aidan doesn’t tell him is that he sometimes just recites verses of songs or poems from his childhood, if he doesn’t know the real translation, just to make Dean happy.

“And here’s the rest of your party.” The waitress appears at their table again with two men and gestures for them to sit. The two of them seem to be just as confused as Aidan and Dean.

“We don’t know these guys,” Dean says apologetically.

“What?” The waitress frowns and looks to the door a little helplessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll get this sorted.”

“Hey, are you from Australia,” one of the guys asks over the uncomfortable silence. He speaks with a strong Geordie accent.

“New Zealand,” Dean clarifies and exchanges a look with Aidan when the guy steps closer to their table, ready to strike up a conversation.

“No way. I’m planning on going there next year with my girlfriend.” He points at himself and the other man. “I’m Greg, by the way and this is Kolya.”

After they exchanged introductions, Greg starts to ask questions about New Zealand until their waitress returns, still frowning.

“I’m so sorry, something must have gone wrong with your reservations.” She looks around for another empty booth, but there is none. 

Even though he feels like it would do Dean and him some good to be alone, Aidan can see how much Dean enjoys the questions about his home. Even his accent is becoming a lot thicker and a lot cuter as he speaks.

“Look, why don’t you sit with us until something else opens up,” he suggests a little begrudgingly. The offer is accepted gladly and the waitress brings more free shots as an apology. 

Dean immediately dives into his conversation with Greg, leaving Aidan with Kolya, who seems to prefer the company of his Aunt Roberta cocktail. Aidan could coax him out of his shell, get a conversation going as well. It is, after all, what he has to be good at for work, but he doesn’t see a reason to do it. He is just as happy spending time with his own drink.

More drinks are ordered and more after that. Greg insists on buying them a drink for intruding on them. He chooses one called Liquid Cocaine, which comes with the strict instruction from the waitress to swallow it straightaway and not to keep it in the mouth. It is a fair warning, because that drink is vile and so incredibly strong, drinking it feels like running into a wall of alcohol at full speed.

Dean cups Aidan’s cheek after they finish that shot and looks at him seriously.

“You still good?”

“Yeah, great,” Aidan replies and he does feel pretty good. Although, when he gets up to go outside for a cigarette he realises that he should sit out the next round or two.

He doesn’t know how long he has been outside, leaning against a wall and enjoying the cool night air, but it must have been a while, as Dean comes out looking for him.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks him once again. He is slightly unsteady on his feet as well, which makes Aidan smile, because Dean is just adorable when he’s drunk.

“Brilliant. But to be honest, I’m ready to go back to the hotel,” Aidan admits while stifling a yawn.

“Yeah, me too. Why don’t you see if you can get us a cab while I say goodbye?”

 

Surprisingly, Greg and Kolya stay at the same hotel as Dean and Aidan and somehow they invite themselves into their room with a bribe of Tequila and weed.

The problem isn’t so much that Aidan doesn’t like the lads, he just doesn’t feel like having company, especially people he has known for less than three hours. His head is spinning, he is tired and grumpy and he really just wants to go to bed, but somehow the two guys manage to make themselves more and more comfortable with every hint that Aidan and Dean need some time alone.

“Hey, you haven’t had yours. That’s not fair!” This time Aidan has paid very close attention to Greg, who keeps filling their little plastic toothbrush cups with more tequila. He poured the drink into Aidan’s and Dean’s cup, but not his own nor Kolya’s, yet they still raised the empty glasses to their lips, pretending.

“What?” Greg laughs out loud at the accusation. “You’re crazy! This is good stuff, why would we waste it on you?”

Aidan doesn’t have an answer for that, but drunk or not, he knows what he saw.

“Here, this will help with your paranoia.” A joint magically appears in Greg’s hand and after lighting it, he hands it over to Aidan. It is the worst thing to add to the mixture already in his body, but he really doesn’t care anymore. He is going to suffer tomorrow anyway, so this, he reasons as he takes a hit, doesn’t really change anything. He keeps the smoke in his lungs as long as he can, savouring the spicy taste before breathing out slowly. He repeats it two more times before passing the joint to Dean.

He isn’t much of a pot smoker in general, but it always astonishes him how quickly it gets into his system and makes everything just a little more amazing. A little more beautiful. He leans back against the headboard of the bed and tries to keep up with the things happening around him, but it feels like watching a movie on fast forward.

Dean starts coughing violently and gagging between fits, but before Aidan had a chance to react or even process that, Greg and Kolya have already sprung to action.

“Dean needs some fresh air,” Greg explains while they are already on their way out, holding Dean up between them.

“Do you want me to help?” Aidan asks, before realising that the door has already slammed shut. He rubs his face, to alleviate his headache and decides that fresh air would do him some good as well.

He barely manages to make the few steps from the bed to the window. His legs they are made of rubber and he is so incredibly dizzy. He hangs on to the sill with one hand while trying to figure out the latch with the other. 

In the parking lot, he can see Dean, still being held up by one of the guys, while a dark car pulls up to them. He watches with a sick sense of fascination as the car comes to a stop and the boot pops open. The two men grab Dean and Aidan has a feeling that something is wrong. They try to push Dean into the boot of the car.

“No!” He shakes his head. “People don’t go in the boot!” He slams his palm against the glass a few times, but the room is too high up for them to hear.

“Dean,” he says are little louder now. “Where are you going?”

He keeps his eyes focussed on the figures in the parking lot, but no matter how hard he stares, it doesn’t make any sense. Dean is still struggling to avoid getting put in the boot of the car and he almost manages to get away until one of the men grabs his head and slams it into the bootlid so hard that Dean’s body goes limp and is easily tucked away.

“No,” Aidan says again. This time he is sure that there is something weird going on. He turns around to get down to the parking lot, but the quick movement is too much for his body. It finally succumbs to the mixture of anti-depressives, alcohol and weed.


	10. We thought we lost you

He wakes up with a small puddle of sick beside him and his stomach cramping and his head pounding.

“Fuck me,” he moans and rolls over onto his back, covering his eyes with his arm. “Dean?” Although it is still dark outside, the room is entirely too bright and it is a mystery to him how Dean can sleep like that. He rolls over once more and gets up on his hands and knees. Gingerly he crawls to the bed, ready to climb in next to Dean, but he finds it empty. 

“Dean?” He leans his forehead against the mattress and whimpers pitifully before he pulls himself up onto his feet. He stumbles to the bathroom where he presses his ear against the door.

“Dean.” He knocks clumsily and then tries the door when he doesn’t get a reply. The room is unlocked and empty. 

Impatiently, he frowns. Maybe Dean went to get something to eat. Even though the thought of food makes Aidan’s stomach turn, Dean might have gotten the post-pot munchies. It isn’t like him to leave Aidan on the floor, though. That bit is still odd and all this pondering exponentially magnifies his headache. He grabs his washbag and ransacks it for some Aspirin, barely noticing that half the contents of the bag end up on the ground. 

The two pills he takes come back out again almost instantly with - what feels like - a bucket of alcohol and the sad remainders of their late night stop at the Burger King across the street from the hotel.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this miserable from drinking. Sure, there is the odd hangover occasionally, but not like this. He resists the urge to curl up into a ball to die and leans his back against the bathtub instead.

Something is missing from his memory. It’s not a complete blackout where everything is blank. He knows it’s there, just out of reach. Something doesn’t quite add up and he has this sick feeling that has nothing to do with nausea.

He tries to recall the evening, but every time he manages to drag up one memory from the muddled mess in his head, another wave of sickness stops his train of thought and throws him back to the beginning. It’s like playing a game of Ludo in his head.

He doesn’t have a notion how much time has passed, but eventually he feels like he is done throwing up. He gets up and splashes some cold water on his face. He looks like shit, unsurprisingly, and he would have killed for a shower, but he has other things to worry about now. He holds on to the sink and stares at his reflection.

The park, he remembers and walking home. He remembers what Dean said to him. That he is thinking about him all the time and accusing Aidan of not doing the same.

“I’m thinking about you, Dean. I am,” he whispers to the empty room. “You can come back now.” He pauses, looking towards the door to give Dean a moment to appear. “Please come back.”

Eyes closed, he focuses, tries to blend out the soft gurgling of the toilet and the humming of the air conditioning. A thousand miles away he can hear the sirens of an ambulance wailing. 

That’s it, he thinks, an ambulance. They put Dean in the back of an ambulance. 

He turns his head slightly to the side. No, not an ambulance. 

Dean was in the back, but it wasn’t an ambulance. It was… 

The frown on Aidan’s face deepens. He knows that he’s almost there. He’s almost got it. 

It was… 

A car.

A car, Dean was in the back of a car and…

“Fuck no!” He lets go of the sink and makes his way to the window as fast as he can, praying that, when he takes a look he will see a pond or a post office or a landfill for radioactive waste. Anything but…   
He exhales slowly when dread turns into certainty. A parking lot. It is definitely there, just as he remembers seeing it earlier and it all comes back to him now. The two lads and how they forced Dean into the boot of the car. He remembers.

“No. Fuck, fuck fuck!” He runs his hands through his hair helplessly and yells “Fuck!” once more and it still doesn’t even begin to describe how bad this is. How bad he fucked this up. The thoughts accelerate inside his head. He needs to get help, but he doesn’t know where his phone is. He needs to get going. He needs to do _something_ and yet he can’t. He is completely paralysed with terror. His breath comes in gasps as it’s trying to keep up with his hammering heart. All the carefully made plans how to cope with an anxiety attack are gone, locked away inside his head inaccessibly, because nothing could have prepared him for this.

He squats on the floor, too dizzy to stand up with his hands covering his head.

“No,” he breathes and hearing his own voice pulls him back to reality. So he continues to talk to himself, telling himself to make simple but smart decisions. First of all, he needs to find his phone. Where does he keep his phone? In his pocket as always. Finding it and feeling the familiar shape and weight in his hand encourages him. He unlocks the screen and calls Dean’s mobile.

The buzzing coming from the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed shatters his hope that this might be a misunderstanding after all and makes him feel nauseated all over again. He closes his eyes and breathes to collect his scattered focus again. He needs to get outside help and quick. So much time has already been wasted and he has no idea how long Dean has been gone. There is not another second to lose.

He doesn’t even bother to put on shoes as he stumbles out of his room and down to the reception.

The night auditor is a young lad who seems to be somewhat torn between curiosity and annoyance at having to deal with a guest who is in such bad shape.

“Kan ik u helpen?” he still asks politely.

“Do you speak English?” Aidan adds a silent “please, please, please speak English” in his head.

“Yes,” the receptionist replies before repeating his question. “Can I help you?”

“I need the police. My friend’s been… He’s been kidnapped.” He wraps his arms around his torso. Saying it out loud made it, all of a sudden, a lot more real and a lot more terrifying.

 

The police arrive within minutes and they seem to have made up their mind about the situation even quicker. The second they lay eyes on Aidan they seem to suspect a fight between lovers that escalated until one of them took off.

Still, they take the time to listen to Aidan’s side of the story, even though he can tell they don’t believe him. He can’t blame them. A kidnapping just sounds too far-fetched. He wouldn’t have believed it himself, but he does anything he can to convince them that he isn’t lying. 

“I _saw_ them put Dean in the car from the room,” he insists and the police ask to see the room to validate the story.

“I’m sorry, this is awful,” Aidan apologizes at the state of the room. The smell of stale air, alcohol, smoke and sickness hangs heavily in the room and then there is that half-dried puddle of puke on the floor that takes the entire thing to a whole new level of embarrassing.

Neither the bald, stern looking policeman, nor the tiny policewoman comment on the state of the room, but look out of the window to make sure the parking lot is visible from there, as Aidan described.

“This is a very expensive hotel. What do you do for a living, Mr. Turner?” the policeman asks partially to complete his records, but Aidan can’t help but think that he is trying to imply something. When did he become a suspect in this?  
“I, uhm, am self-employed.”

The policeman makes a note, while the woman starts to poke around in their suitcases.

“As what?”

“Well, customer service, I guess.”

“And what does that mean? Computers? Telemarketing?”

“I’m an escort,” Aidan sighs. There is no point trying to skate around it and waste time. He notices the glance the man and woman exchange and he can tell that now their investigation is going to focus on that. “But that has nothing to do with this. I don’t have a pimp or jealous clients that would do something like this. It’s not… it…” 

Iago. 

The name pops into Aidan’s head as he tries to explain that he isn’t the type of prostitute who does drugs and hangs out on street corners to get into a stranger’s car.  
Iago. That actually is the first thing that makes sense today. No one else would be psychotic enough to come up with a plan like this. On the other hand, it makes no sense at all. What would Iago want from Dean?

The policewoman disappears into the bathroom, while Aidan wonders how much he should tell about his past with Iago. He would reveal every single detail just to get Dean back, but explaining it all now might be distracting and just too much information for the moment.

Returning from the bathroom, the woman has brought Aidan’s medication, which seem to spark the man’s interest. 

“Are these yours or Dean’s?”

“Mine,” Aidan says between clenched teeth. This is all wrong. If Dean is on his way to Iago right now they need to do something _right now_!

“And why do you take anti-depressants?”

The questions turn more and more into an interrogation and Aidan feels like they want him to admit that he is a psycho who decided to get rid of his boyfriend. He doesn’t know how much more he can take of this before breaking down, physically and mentally, and admitting to anything, just to get them to start searching for Dean already.

Things change rapidly, though, when the policeman in charge gets a call on his walkie talkie. For a moment they all listen to the voice from the loudspeaker. Even if it wasn’t hissing with static, Aidan wouldn’t have understood a word of the rapid Dutch, but he can see a change in the policeman’s face and he is not sure that he likes this new expression. He is starting to look concerned now, rather than exasperated and mildly inconvenienced. He motions for them to leave the room.

“What’s going on?” Aidan asks the policewoman who seems a little more approachable than the man.

“Our colleague downstairs reviewed the surveillance tapes from the parking lot,” she explains. “It looks like he found something interesting.”

“Oh, thank God.” Aidan is torn between relief that there is evidence now and terror that there is evidence now and the chances of all of this being a misunderstanding becoming virtually zero. 

From the moment they watch the surveillance tape, the police become absolute stars. They take over one of the hotel’s conference rooms and turn it into their headquarters. Once they realise that Aidan is really a man who lost his boyfriend and not a psychopath, they take touching care of him. They even assign Anika, the policewoman, to stay with him and to translate when necessary.

He gets a heavy blanket and peppermint tea, which he usually wouldn’t touch with a pole, but it actually helps with the nausea. He is also offered toast and a banana, but he isn’t ready to eat any food yet. For the most part he just sits in his chair uselessly, shivering, partly from the hangover, partly from terror. His heart skips a beat every time the door opens and someone walks in with that severe look that everyone has now.

It is getting light outside when there is finally a change. The police all gather around the guy in charge and there is a bit of a commotion at the news he is sharing with his team, but Aidan simply can’t tell if the news are good or bad.

Once everyone else resumes their work, Anika stays behind, taking up her chair next to Aidan again.   
“Well, the car we saw on the video,” she begins slowly and Aidan can tell that she is struggling to find the right words, even though her English is near perfect. Aidan clenches his teeth. His hands are curled into tight fists while he tries to prepare himself for whatever is coming. “We were able to identify the license number and, uhm, it has been found.”

For a split-second Aidan thinks this is good news. He almost smiles before he processes what she just said. The car has been found. Not Dean, just the car. His heart sinks in his chest.

“It was found at a rest stop near the German border,” she explains. “There was some blood in the trunk, but not too much.”

Aidan nods slowly.

“It can mean two things. Either they continued on foot, or…”

“They switched cars.” The realisation brings a lump into Aidan’s throat that he can’t swallow down. If they changed cars there is no way to find them. They could be going anywhere unnoticed. They could take Dean _anywhere_.

Anika pulls a laptop over to show Aidan where exactly the car was found. It doesn’t look very far away at all. A two hour drive, maybe. 

“We are searching the area, of course. With dogs. And we are in contact with the German police. It’s most likely that they are heading east.” Anika continues. “We are really doing everything we can.”

Aidan nods again. He is sure that they are, but he still feels like it is not nearly enough.

 

While the police officers have their lunch, Aidan returns to his room. He nibbled a slice of toast, but the smell of real food is still too much for him. He promised Anika to lie down for half an hour, after she swore to call his room if they learned anything new at all, and even though the freshly made bed is the most inviting looking thing he has ever seen, he can’t even think about going to sleep now. He takes a quick shower and then paces the room. It has been cleaned completely, and he feels terrible for having left his mess for housekeeping. 

To distract himself, he uses google translator to write a thank you note for the housekeeper, the way he sometimes does, when he is at a hotel with a client and they leave the room in a particularly bad state.

“Aan de schoonmaakpersoneel, Het spijt me heel erg! Dank je wel voor alles.” Hoping that google didn’t fail him and he didn’t offend anyone, he folds the paper in half, adds a tip and leaves it on the desk for them to collect the next day.

It is a relief to do something, even if it is just a meaningless gesture. It is still better than sitting around, waiting and doing nothing.

 

_“Can you describe Dean for me?” Anika asked him, just before lunch, looking at the picture Aidan had found on his phone that wasn’t a stupid selfie of them both, trying to both get in the shot._

_“I don’t know,” Aidan replied. It felt a little awkward to talk about Dean further than “he is this tall and blond” and the waiting has brought him to a new emotional low. “Is that necessary?”_

_“No. I’m just curious. You don’t have to.” They settled back into their silence, but somehow Aidan couldn’t stop thinking about all the things that made Dean so wonderful._

_“He’s… sweet.” Aidan started out of the blue. “He cares about everyone. Honestly, he is probably making sure right now that the kidnappers eat well and keep hydrated.” They both smiled at the mental image. “He’s also funny. Accidentally, sometimes, but he has a good sense of humour. He’s really good in a crisis as well. He would manage this whole thing so much better than me.” Aidan laughed at the irony of that. “He’d have me back by now.”_

_Once started, there seemed to be no off-switch and Aidan talked to Anika about their first and second meeting and how things developed from there. He also shows her the picture Dean painted for him on his phone._

_“You’re both very lucky to have each other,” Anika said and Aidan isn’t so sure if that is true. He is lucky to have Dean, anyone can see that, but so far Dean hasn’t gotten much out of their relationship besides grief._

 

He gets up again, picks up one of Dean’s T-Shirts and brings it to his face. He can still smell Dean in the fabric and the thought of missing his scent and his smile and voice forever feels like a knife to the heart. With the T-Shirt pressed against his chest, he walks to the bedside table to take Dean’s phone.

He should, he thinks, let Dean’s family know what’s going on. But how can he do that? How can he explain that Dean is gone, when he can’t even fully understand it himself? And how can he admit to Dean’s family that it is, undoubtedly, his fault? He doesn’t even know how to contact them. A text surely isn’t the way to do it but to call them seems impossible.

Undecided he heads out of the hotel for a cigarette to help him think. He stays outside for a little longer than necessary until he is absolutely sure that his half-hour time out is up and then returns to the conference room.

“Do you feel better?” Anika sits up from being slumped over the table when she hears him come in and Aidan notices how exhausted she looks.

“Yeah,” he lies and sits down next to her. 

“That’s good,” she gives him a supportive smile. 

“When does your shift end?”

“Six hours ago.”

“Ah, shit,” Aidan genuinely feels bad for her. “You don’t have to stay for me, I’m sure someone else can translate.”

“Yeah, I know,” she responds with a shrug. “It’s just that I’m interested in the case. Sorry, that sounded mean. It’s more than a case. I really want to know that everything is going to be okay.”

“Thanks.” Aidan wishes he could give her a smile, but he just doesn’t have it in him. “Uhm, dank je wel,” he says instead, trying out the new words he learned earlier.

 

“Aidan?” Someone is gently shaking him. In spite of all the commotion around him he dozed off in the late afternoon. He opens his eyes reluctantly to find Anika crouching in front of him. “You awake?”

He scrunches up his face from the discomfort of having slept sitting in a chair but nods.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She holds a mobile phone in front of him. “It’s for you.”

“Wha?” He takes the phone and brings it up to his ear. “Hello?”

The connection is poor and even though the voice on the other end is hoarse and weak and sounds very far away, it is undoubtedly the most beautiful sound Aidan has ever heard.

“Aid?”


	11. A seven nation army couldn't hold me back

It doesn’t happen often that Aidan finds himself speechless. He usually has a comeback for everything and he has the talent to make an awkward situation more bearable by playing up the accent and chatting about the weather if necessary.

Yet, when he gets to wrap his arms around Dean after almost three days of being separated, he is at a loss for words. They cling to each other and Aidan tries his best to remain strong and offer comfort to Dean, who is trembling in his arms, but it is near impossible. Just as impossible as the thought of letting go of Dean, but he still loosens his grip, when Dean makes a small sound of discomfort.

“I’m sorry, I’m hurting you,” Aidan whispers into Dean’s hair and pulls away slightly to study his face. He looks pitiful, a large bruise spreading from his broken nose across his cheeks is the only colour in his face. Even his eyes are dull today, only sparkling from unshed tears.

“No, you’re not. This is.” He gently feels for the tape covering his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Aidan repeats. If not for the physical pain, then for the emotional hurt he is causing again and again. He brushes a few strands of hair away from Dean’s brow and kisses his forehead. “I thought I lost you.”

He bows his head and rests his forehead against Dean’s, carefully avoiding his nose.

“Yeah, I thought that, too,” Dean wraps his hand around the back of Aidan’s neck and rubs his thumb over the vertebra, slightly raised at the base of his skull. “That’ll teach me not to talk to strangers. Even if they have candy. Or Tequila.”

Aidan tries to laugh at the joke, but the sound that comes out is more a sniffle than a laugh.

“What was that?” Dean asks and squeezes Aidan’s shoulder. “You should be happy to have me back. Your life was so dull without me.”

“I am!” Aidan insists. “God, I am so happy. It’s just…”

“Too much,” Dean finishes for him and Aidan nods. He’s happy and relieved and exhausted and worried and sorry all at the same time. The emotions battle with each other, each one of them trying to come out on top. “But I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to be fine.”

Dean has been through a period of “decompression”. One day in which he only had contact with experts and trauma specialists before he was even allowed to see Aidan or talk to his family. They aimed to give Dean some time to come to terms with his abduction, to relive some of it and to give as much information as possible to the police. It seems like it did, at least, get Dean into an optimistic headspace.

“Of course you are,” Aidan agrees with an attempted smile and shrugs his shoulders awkwardly when there is nothing more to say and an uncomfortable silence settles between them.

They are alone in one of the hotel’s meeting rooms that was offered to them for their reunion and even though the room is quite nice, it feels sterile and cold.

“I’d really love to lie down,” Dean says to break the silence. “I talked to my parents before I came here and that was exhausting. And then all this.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s go upstairs.”

He takes Dean’s hand and guides him past the police, who brought Dean to the hotel and to their room.

He still doesn’t exactly know what happened. He knows that Dean somehow managed to get out of the car at a supermarket in Bielefeld, a city in the north-west of Germany. From what Aidan picked up, Dean got into a nearby shop but passed out and was taken to a hospital. When he regained consciousness in the early afternoon and told his story, the hospital contacted the police. Those are the facts that made their way through to Aidan. There are still so many pieces missing, but Aidan doesn’t dare to ask. He doesn’t want to pester Dean for details before he is ready to share them, knowing so well how that feels. _He_ still hasn’t told Dean everything that happened to him the night he was attacked and he doesn’t know if he will ever be ready to do it. Although he has a better understanding of how left out and helpless Dean must feel sometimes, when Aidan refuses to talk to him about why he had a nightmare or why he gets upset over the most random things and sounds and smells.

 

Dean is uncharacteristically quiet and introverted on their way home to London. Aidan can’t blame him, of course, but he doesn’t know how to deal with it. It’s not that Dean is gruff or unapproachable, he is just withdrawn and lost in his thoughts.

Therefore Aidan is incredibly thankful that Adam and Graham offer them a place to stay for a few days. The thought of returning to his flat, which has slowly started to feel hostile to Aidan, is almost unbearable in itself and throwing Dean’s suffering into the mix doesn’t help.

Adam and particularly Graham take both of them, and their moods, in stride, though. Somehow Graham always seems to know when to encourage conversation and when to leave them alone.

“I’ve had some practice,” Graham tells Aidan, when he asks him about it. Aidan is pretty sure that he is talking about Adam. He still remembers that he was at the lowest point in his life, when Aidan first met him. He was still in bad shape when he met Graham, but once they started seeing each other, Adam improved by leaps and bounds. Today he is still awkward and prone to accidents and putting his foot in his mouth, but he is a changed man in terms of self-esteem and attitude.

“You did well,” Aidan says, as they both watch Adam play with the neighbour’s cat on the little patch of grass that is their back garden. 

 

They stay out in the garden late every evening, eating home cooked meals and enjoying the warm weather.

“We were so tangled, when I tried to get away, I accidentally pulled her skirt down in front of everyone on the bus and she knocked me out,” Adam finishes a story that has all of them howling with laughter. Adam tries to avoid telling stories, when there is company, but when he does open up, he brings the house down with his misadventures. Bad luck just seems to follow him everywhere.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s my turn to tell a story, but I can’t top that,” Dean wipes a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye, but even the encouragement from Aidan and Adam can’t change his mind.

“How about another story, then?” Graham interjects, in a slightly more sombre tone. “Why don’t you tell us about your Great Escape? I sure want to know how the hell you pulled it off and it will be good for you to talk about it.”

Aidan observes Dean pulling the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands, as he always does when he is uncomfortable. There is a pause long enough for Aidan to want to jump in with a story of the time he actually had to hide in a closet – naked – to avoid a client’s wife who came home from work early. It’s an old story that everyone has heard already, but it is the best he’s got to take the heat off Dean.

Just when he is about to open his mouth Dean clears his throat.

“Are you sure you want to hear about that now? It has been such an enjoyable evening. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“You could never ruin the evening,” Aidan says supportively.

“And if you avoid talking about it, you will only increase the power it has over you,” Graham explains and Aidan can only agree. After having seen a therapist a few times now, he can confirm that talking about things, no matter how dreadful it may feel at the time actually helps. And he has noticed that Dean has become a lot more reserved around people, including Aidan.

“I guess that makes sense,” Dean says scratching his chin thoughtfully. “It’s not going to be a good story, though I was unconscious most of the time. At the hotel, the guys took me downstairs to get some air and then this happened.” He gestures towards his nose and bruised face. “They knocked me out and stuffed me in the boot and I was out until we changed cars.” He pauses again, clearly reliving the experience in his head. “They woke me up for that and, dear God, I wish they hadn’t. I was so miserable and I think I threw up everything I ever ate in my life. But that turned out to be good, actually, because they didn’t want to put me back in the car while I was sick, so I tried to keep that going for as long as I could, just to buy some time.”

“Weren’t there any other people there? Anyone who could have helped you?” Adam asked, just barely keeping himself from biting his nails.

“It must have been about four in the morning. There was no one there. And I didn’t want to try and run for it, because I didn’t want to give them any reason to kill me.”

“They were going to kill you?” Adam is now actually biting his nails.

“They argued about it. Greg wanted to kill me straightaway, but luckily Kolya was smart enough to realise that it’s no fun to travel around with a rotting corpse in the car in July. Especially if you are trying to cross the border into Russia. That’s what they were trying to go. I suppose it’s easier to get rid of someone in a Siberian forest than anywhere in Europe.” Dean raises an eyebrow, indicating that it is pretty obvious. He speaks with a kind of detachment, as if he is simply recapping a movie he saw. “Anyway, they got impatient after a while and I couldn’t pretend to be puking anymore, so they shoved me into the new car and off we went.”

He continues to explain how he tried to punch out the backlights to get his hands through the hole and attract the attention of other drivers, but didn’t dare to make too much noise.

“But then I figured that there really should be some kind of emergency release button or switch in case a kid gets locked in the car accidentally.”

“That’s really clever!” Graham sounds as impressed as Aidan feels. He would never have thought of that. He would most likely still be in that car today.

“I ripped up the carped and took apart everything I could reach until I actually found a cable. I was pretty sure that I would open the boot, but of course I had to wait to try. I don’t know how long it was, I tried to count the seconds, but I couldn’t keep track. I’d say it was at least two hours. I just laid there holding the cable. I was so terrified to lose it. They stopped to buy some supplies. While Greg went into the shop, Kolya was supposed to watch me, but he must have needed the loo or something, because he left the car a minute later and I took my chances. And that’s how I got away.”

“Remarkable. Well done, Dean,” Graham says, shaking his head, as if he can’t quite believe it. Adam leans over to give Dean a tight hug and Aidan takes Dean’s hand in his. He is so proud of Dean and relieved beyond words to have him back relatively well. And yet there is a voice in the back of his head telling him that this isn’t over. Dean may have gotten away this time, but Iago won’t give up that easily and he won’t be fooled a second time.

He will be furious and he will make sure that something like this won’t happen the next time he comes after one of them. The next time he strikes, he won’t leave any room for errors.

He has known Iago long enough and after Jola’s death he is convinced that there are no limits to his insanity. Even though kidnapping isn’t the all-time low compared to the murder of a sweet, young girl, it’s personal and it brings Aidan’s blood to the boil to know that Dean was hurt, scared and suffering because of Iago.

The plan to get Dean into Russia and leaving it to the Siberian predators to take care of the body is certainly cruel and elegant enough to leave no doubt whatsoever that Iago is the mastermind behind it. His next strike, however, won’t be neat and clever. Next time one of them is going to be found dead in the Thames with his head bashed in or stuffed into a rubbish bin, just like Jola.

Aidan has the feeling that “one of them” is going to be Dean and he can’t allow that to happen. He can’t. He just doesn’t know how to avoid it, yet.

“You okay, Aid?” Adam asks, yanking Aidan back into the present. “You are so quiet and you look pissed off. Even more than usually.”

“Well, I am more pissed off than usually,” Aidan concurs. “All of this happened to Dean and the guy responsible for it gets to walk away. Even if the police catch Greg and Kolya they are not going to give up Iago.”

There is a moment of silence in which they all contemplate the unfairness of the situation.

“He is going to get his in the end,” Graham says. Even though it is pretty obvious that he doesn’t believe it himself, Aidan still nods in agreement.

“Yeah, he is.” He can feel Dean’s worried gaze on him and doesn’t look up to avoid it. Dean squeezes his hand lightly.

“I am fine, honestly. There is no reason for revenge,” Dean says calmly to discourage any thoughts Aidan may have to go after Iago himself.

“I know,” Aidan replies with a small, forced smile. In his head the wheels are turning. Not yet a fully developed pan, but the seed is planted.

 

“Go to sleep, Babe,” Dean tells him for the third time that night. He comes up to Aidan from behind and gently places his hands at the side of Aidan’s head to run his fingers through is hair. A gesture that always makes Aidan feel loved. Like a cat or a dog that gets scratched behind the ears.

“I will if you will,” Aidan whispers into the darkness. He has been sitting in the back garden for hours. It is almost dawn and he hasn’t come up with a plan so far. None that doesn’t involve going after Iago with a large, heavy and possibly spiked object, anyway. He calls that one Plan B.

“I can’t,” Dean says. “Not when I’m scared to wake up and find you’ve gone to get Iago…”

Aidan looks up from the orange glow of his cigarette, surprised. He thought he had been pretty discreet about his thoughts, but apparently he wasn’t. Either that or he had become a lot more predictable.

He briefly considers denying it, but that would just be an insult to Dean’s intelligence.

“I woke up to find you missing,” he says instead, breathing out smoke slowly.

“So this is an eye for an eye, then?” Dean continues to comb his fingers through Aidan’s hair, which makes it difficult to focus on his rage. “You know what it’s like to wake up like this and you really want to do that to me?”

“No,” Aidan growls. It isn’t fair that Dean is trying to make him feel guilty. It’s not like he is going to take off right now to meet Iago for an epic battle in an abandoned tube station. This isn’t the movies. “But this needs to be dealt with.”

“Then let the police deal with it,” Dean pauses for Aidan’s dismissive snort. “We are better prepared this time. We know that he is coming and we won’t be stupid enough to hang out with strangers again.”

“You don’t get it,” Aidan drops his head into his hand. “You don’t understand. It won’t be like that next time. He won’t bother trying to get you out of the country next time. He won’t try to make it look like an accident. He will have someone shoot you in the street in broad daylight it he wants to. We can’t prepare for everything.”

“If he really is that dangerous you definitely should stay away from him,” Dean argues. His voice is still calm, but Aidan can feel his tension in his fingers. “Promise me that you won’t do anything to provoke Iago. Anything at all that could be considered dumb, reckless or even just questionable.”

“I would, but I can’t. I can’t have you wake up dead one day.”

Dean inhales sharply as if he wants to continue arguing, but then lets the air out in a little huff of laughter.

“Wake up dead, huh?” He hugs Aidan from behind and whispers against his cheek. “You’re tired and cold. Come on in. Come to bed with me.”

Weary and drained, Aidan leans his head against Dean’s and closes his eyes for a moment. Even though the pull out sofa in Adam and Graham’s living room is far from comfortable the thought if lying down and getting a bit of rest sounds very appealing.

“You go ahead,” he tells Dean softly. “I’ll just finish this.” He gestures with this cigarette. Dean presses a kiss to Aidan’s temple and squeezes his shoulders.

“Don’t be long, okay?”

Aidan replies with a non-committal grunt and waits until he hears the terrace door slide shut behind Dean before he feels for the phone in his lap and squints at the sudden brightness from the screen. 

He can’t promise Dean not to do anything stupid. He opens his messages.

“I know what you did.” Sent. Past tense. To Iago. An hour ago.

He can’t promise not to do anything stupid. 

He’s already done it.


	12. Sugar-Daddy’s Fuck Toy, but always his Princess

It’s been three days with no response from Iago and Aidan is constantly torn between feeling on edge that something is going to happen and a strange sense of calm that comes with the silence.

He has received a message from Richard though. Sitting in his favourite spot in the back garden, sheltered from the drizzle of rain, he reads the message again.

“I hope you’re recovering well. Jimmy asked for an appointment this evening. If you’re not feeling up for it, we’ll send Rian.”

His eyes narrow irritatedly. He doesn’t like Rian. From the pretentious way he spells his name to the fact that he is twenty-one years old, Aidan doesn’t like him. He hates his disgustingly charming, yet indecipherable Galway accent and how everyone is going nuts about his hot lad next door act. Even Dean was completely smitten with him, when they had their photo shoot. On a farm, with Rian posing topless next to a tractor. What a cliché.

When Aidan told Dean about the message all hell broke loose. Aidan still doesn’t know if Dean was annoyed by the fact that Aidan considered going back to work or that it was Jimmy who asked. Maybe Dean was just frustrated that Aidan would have sex with a stranger before having sex with him. Aidan argued that they needed the money and the fight just exploded from there. Again. They have fought a few times over the last couple of days, but never as viciously as this time.

Aidan thinks that they are both too tense to have a normal conversation. Even though they are incredibly grateful for Adam and Graham’s hospitality, they need space, physical space and different rooms to work things out. Or maybe this is the beginning of the end. He doesn’t know. He’s never come this far in a relationship. He just prays that it isn’t, because regardless of what Dean thinks of him, Aidan still loves him. More, actually, after everything they went through together. But maybe Dean doesn’t think he’s worth the trouble anymore.

“Looking forward to it,” he writes back and it’s only half a lie. He can’t afford to stop working a lot longer and Jimmy is always good fun, so it could be worse.

A glass of homemade lemonade appears on the table in front of Aidan and he looks up surprised.

“Aid, can I talk to you for a second?” Adam asks and sits down in the chair next to Aidan with his knees drawn up to his chest.

“Of course,” Aidan replies immediately. He doesn’t actually feel like talking, but the serious tone in Adam’s voice makes him forget about his own problems for the time being. “You need us to move out, right? I was looking at flats just a minute ago!” It is true, he was, but in London there seems to be the choice between getting a hovel at the barely affordable side of expensive or a flat an actual human being would want to live with a rent level beyond good and evil. He has long given up on finding his and Dean’s dream home. He just wants a home that doesn’t remind him of getting beaten, raped and humiliated. 

He understands, though, that Adam and Graham are anxious to get their space back as much as he and Dean want to move out.

“No!” Adam shakes his head insistently. “That’s not it at all. Actually, if you wanted, you could move in permanently.”

“What?” Aidan scrunches up his nose. That is pretty much the exact opposite of what he thought Adam would say. Adam rolls his eyes at him.

“Not like one of those hippie communes in the sixties, Aidan. We’re not the bloody Beatles.” He takes a sip from his lemonade. “This is serious. Graham and I are moving. To Scotland.”

“What?” Aidan says again while his jaw drops. “Why?”

“We think that it would be better to, uhm, raise a child outside of the city.”

“What?” Aidan says for the third time, almost shouting it this time.

“Jesus, do you need a hearing aid?”

“A child?” He looks at Adam to see if he is joking, but Adam looks back dead serious. It is hard to believe that while everything turns to shit in his own life, other people actually get stuff done. Doing things with their lives. “You’ve finally done it. You’re pregnant.”

“Aidan, come on.”

“Well, I’m sorry. This is just so much information. A kid? You’re moving? And what makes you think that you can’t raise a child in London. I was born and raised here and I turned out great.”

“I think that you said ‘tanks’ instead of ‘thhhaaaanks’,” Adam says, exaggerating the th-sound, “when I gave you the drink proves that you are not a Londoner and that you are lying.”

“That’s discrimination,” Aidan replies, but now that he had time to process the news, he is actually happy for his friends. “Honestly, it’s… grand. Brilliant. I don’t even know what to say. You’re going to be a daddy.” He can’t keep a grin of his face. “And it’s the second time for Graham.”

Adam opens his mouth to protest, but then stops and blushes.

“You heard nothing!”

“You mean that you call him Daddy and he calls you Princess in bed. No, I haven’t heard any of that at all.” Aidan wishes that were true. He still remembers the one conversation he overheard when he went to the toilet one night. “Daddy makes the rules and if Princess breaks the rules, Princess gets spanked.” Followed by the sound of spanking and Adam moaning “Yes, Daddy”. He wishes he could burn that from his memory forever. From that day on always makes as much noise as possible whenever he needs the loo after Adam and Graham have gone to bed.

“So how is that going to work? How are you going to get a child?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually,” Adam scratches his head little awkwardly. “We need your help.”

“I, uhm, just to have it said once, for the record, I won’t help you steal a child,” Aidan begins unsure of where this is going. “I don’t really understand. Do you, err, need my DNA or something?”

Adam slaps Aidan’s arm at the suggestion.

“How do you have any friends at all? You’re a horrible person.” Adam takes a good look at Aidan. “But I bet you were the cutest, curliest, pissed off looking baby in Ireland, ever.” 

“The stubble helped a lot to sell the pissed off baby look,” Aidan agrees with a wink while rubbing his cheek. “So you don’t want me to wank in a cup for you.”

“No! I just wanted to ask if you were okay to talk to the adoption agency. They need a few people who are not related to me or Graham to interview.”

“Really? You want me?” Aidan is incredibly touched that Adam and Graham thought of him, but on paper he doesn’t really look like the ideal candidate to speak about anything regarding children at all. Depending on how far the social worker needs to go into his history, the agency would be delighted to find out that he is a gay prostitute with a rape video on the internet, that he is loosely linked to a guy wanted for murder and was recently involved in a kidnapping abroad. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be in a room with a child.

“Of course we want you.” Adam squeezes Aidan’s knee affectionately. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.”

Aidan leans over to hug Adam tightly. 

“Are you really leaving?” he asks, before he lets go, burying his face in Adam’s shoulder for a moment. He can’t imagine his life without his best friend just a tube-ride away. He looks at the house. It is a lovely home, but it’s not practical for Aidan to move this far away from the city centre and he doesn’t want to live in this house without Adam, who filled it with love and life.

“Not today,” Adam says reassuringly, “but we kind of want to have it all done before Christmas. We have had our trainings and we are now in the middle of the home study, so that will take another two or three months and if we get approved to be parents the social worker will start to look for a child, I suppose. And if we don’t get approved one of us is just going to have to knock up a woman.”

Aidan laughs out loud at the idea of Adam having sex with a woman. He assumes that Graham could possibly pull it off. At least he can pass as straight for more than ten seconds, but he is concerned that it would involve a massive amount of Viagra, since Graham is at least a hundred years old.

“Wow. I had no idea you did all this work already.” He feels bad for not knowing about Adam’s life changing plans. Getting married, moving to the country and having kids. It all sounds terribly responsible and grown-up to Aidan who struggles to keep his first real relationship going.

“Most of it was waiting, really, but now things are starting to move along and now it feels like everything is going really fast.” Adam looks down at his hands. “It’s scary.”

“You’re scared of everything,” Aidan laughs and counts on his fingers. “Fish, feet, spiders. Well, all kinds of bugs, really. Butterflies.”

“I’m not scared of butterflies,” Adam protests. “I just don’t like them near me. But this is different scary. Like, for example, what if they find a child and it’s a girl?”

“Well,” Aidan says thoughtfully, “I don’t think there is much difference between baby girls and boys. And when she becomes a teenager you’ll have at least two interests in common. Make up and cock. Presumably.”

“Why do I even talk to you?” Adam groans, although he is trying hard to keep a grin off his face. 

 

Not having to think for a while is a relief and Aidan enjoys the simplicity of being bent over and fucked. His elbows are pressed against the window with is fingers trying to find purchase on the panels of steel framed glass.

If the people on the street below had time to look up, they would certainly see him, but everyone is rushing by. When he lifts his own eyes from the street, he can see Jimmy’s reflection just behind him and gives him a little smile.

Jimmy responds by slapping his bottom hard enough to make Aidan gasp and flinch.

“You enjoying this?” Jimmy asks, almost challenging, before returning his hand to an iron grip on Aidan’s hips.

“Yeah,” Aidan pants, resting his damp forehead against his upper arm. He really does enjoy it. Jimmy only knows a little of what happened in Amsterdam and the weeks before, so he doesn’t feel the need to walk on eggshells around Aidan or treat him like he is broken. He’s pounding into him mercilessly, making Aidan feel almost normal, almost good.

“Want it harder?” Jimmy growls into his ear. “Want me to make you come?”

The whimper that comes from Aidan isn’t an act. He hasn’t had sex with Dean – or anyone – in weeks, aside from the aggressive handjob in the hotel bathroom and he is surprised that he has been able to pull himself together this long.

“Oh, god, yes,” he moans, when Jimmy picks up the pace. “Like that. As hard as you can. Fuck me.”  
Jimmy’s right hand sneaks around to Aidan’s cock and starts tugging, while his left crawls up his side to his neck, pressing uncomfortably, but not unpleasantly, against his windpipe as he grabs Aidan’s chin from below. His index finger strokes Aidan’s jaw possessively.

“Look at me,” he orders and Aidan obeys by meeting Jimmy’s eyes reflected in the glass. They hold eye-contact for a moment before Jimmy bends over him to whisper in his hear. “Go on, come for me.”

Aidan obeys again, pushing back against Jimmy, trembling from the intensity of the orgasm. Jimmy pulls out, leaving him feeling almost painfully empty. The condom lands on the windowsill next to Aidan with a wet splat and only seconds later, Jimmy finishes all over his back with little droplets raining onto his skin.

“I marked you, now you’re mine.”

“Hmm,” Aidan responds, slumped against the window. He stays like that for a moment, while he catches his breath. Once he’s composed himself a little, he turns around to hop onto the windowsill, even though sitting is a little painful now.

Dean would love this, he thinks, as he looks over Jimmy’s shoulder into the room that is bathed in an orange glow from the setting sun. They are at the house, _the house_ that Dean and Aidan fell in love with, but couldn’t even afford the rent for just a single room. Even the tool-shed in the garden is probably out of their price range.

It’s not fair that he makes good money, more than the average guy, but still can’t afford to give Dean something like this. And it is really not fair that Jimmy decided to take him back for a second viewing, even though this one involved more fucking than viewing in each room.

“That was exactly what I needed. Thank you.” He says to distract himself from the house and pulls Jimmy closer until his is standing right between his legs. He leans in for a deep, desirous kiss.

“Look at you with that smile,” Jimmy says, when they part and brushes his thumb over the corner of Aidan’s mouth. “Like the cat with the cream.”

Yeah, Aidan thinks, he’s got the cream all right. That’s tickling down his back.

The smile Jimmy returns is a little mischievously. A look that Aidan knows only too well. It usually means that he has hatched some plan in his head and that anything can happen.

“Don’t move.” Jimmy walks away from Aidan backwards. “And close your eyes.”

Once more, Aidan does as he is told. He can hear Jimmy potter about, before the sound of his bare feet on the exquisite reclaimed wooden floor tell Aidan that he is returning. 

“Hand,” Jimmy says and Aidan holds is out, palm side up, fully expecting to feel Jimmy’s cock in his hand. He is the kind of guy who would cut a hole in the bottom of a popcorn bucket. He doesn’t though. Something small, cold and smooth is placed into his hand and Aidan closes his fingers around the object instinctively.

“A key?” he asks, frowning, before he opens his eyes to confirm.

“Yes,” Jimmy agrees, beaming with joy.

“What for?” Aidan turns it over in his hand. It is too big for a safety box or suitcase or box. Not even a car key. It actually looks like an ordinary key for an ordinary door.

“Your new house.” Jimmy grins and gestures around the room to leave no doubt the he is talking about this house. Aidan’s jaw drops as he looks from the key to Jimmy. He closes his fingers around the metal in his hand, enjoying the idea of actually living here for a few seconds, before he shakes his head.

“We can’t afford the rent,” he says disheartened. “You know that.”

“You don’t have to. I bought it for you. It’s yours.”

He says it like it is no big deal at all and maybe it isn’t to him.

“No,” Aidan shakes his head and tries to give the key back. “No, you didn’t. That doesn’t make sense. It… it’s not an appropriate gift. It’s too much.”

“Shouldn’t the giver decide what’s appropriate?” 

“No,” Aidan keeps shaking his head. This is insane and Jimmy doesn’t seem to realise that. “Not when it is a freaking house. You… you can’t. You can’t give me a house.”

“Why not? It would make you happy.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Aidan rubs his face. Jimmy’s intransigence is starting to make him angry. Of course he _wants_ the house, but he is old enough to know that you can’t always have what you want and that gifts that come out of the blue usually have strings attached. Although with a gift this big it’s probably comes with ropes, rather than strings attached.

He holds the key out for Jimmy one more time.

“Take it back,” he says firmly. It is incredibly hard to do it, but he has to. He wouldn’t feel comfortable being Jimmy’s bitch. How could he ever refuse anything the man asked for if he kept the house? And Dean would never move in under these circumstances. If he still wants to move in with Aidan at all. Right now things aren’t looking too good. Not with the fight they had right before Aidan left for his appointment with Jimmy. “Thank you for the gesture. It is really kind of you, but I can’t accept it. It wouldn’t be right. I wouldn’t have earned this.”

Jimmy rolls his eyes and runs his hand through Aidan’s hair.

“Why can’t you be like all the other kids who are happy to have a Sugar Daddy?”

Despite his irritation Aidan has to laugh at Jimmy calling himself his Sugar Daddy.

“Because I’m not a kid anymore,” Aidan replies and gets up from his seat on the windowsill. He walks around the large room slowly, taking in what he is throwing away, and realizing that he doesn’t need it. Gifts, no matter what the price tag says, and mushy words from clients before they put their clothes back on to leave aren’t real affection. They are just investments towards the next appointment. “Candy isn’t everything anymore.”

Affection, he thinks, is getting back home, swallowing his pride and telling Dean that he loves him and he wants to fight for their relationship. He didn’t realise it before, but now that he is on the verge of losing Dean it’s obvious to him. He would be happy to spend the rest of his life in a shoebox sized flat in fucking Lewisham as long as he may do so with Dean. 

“I’m sorry, Jimmy, I have to go,” he says and starts looking for his clothes. He wishes he could take a shower before getting dressed and he knows he looks like he is fleeing, but he feels like he shouldn’t waste another minute with another man, while Dean is at home, angry with him. 

“You should reconsider,” Jimmy says, once they are both dressed and slips the key that Aidan has left on the table into the pocket of Aidan’s jeans. “Come back here with the Kiwi. Have a look around. And if you’re still not happy, we could make an arrangement. You could pay rent. A reasonable amount that you can afford.”

Aidan opens his mouth to protest, but stops himself. There is no arguing with Jimmy and actually an arrangement where he pays rent doesn’t sound bad. Yes, he has his pride and all that, but he isn’t stupid, either. In this city, in this world, if you know someone who can give you a break, you take it.

“I will,” he agrees. His hands brush over the bundle of cash tucked into his back pocket. “Is it okay if I leave now?” Jimmy paid him for at least another hour.

“If you promise to come back with the Kiwi tonight. Stay the night and I am sure that you don’t want to leave again.”

“I promise.” Aidan can only hope that he can make good on that.

 

“Did you have fun?” Dean asks, when Aidan returns, but there is a bite in his voice that Aidan never heard before and Dean doesn’t even bother to look at him. He feels for the key in his pocket. He could reply and go in for another round of fighting, but he is so tired of it. He is so tired of all the negativity, so instead of giving Dean more ammunition, he plans to disarm him.

“Do you still want to live with me?” he asks bluntly and even though he sounds weary, it makes Dean look up sharply.

There is a moment of silence, with Dean’s face indecipherable and Aidan’s heart skipping beat after beat. He can’t even imagine what he would do if Dean says no and holds his breath, hoping for something along the lines of “maybe later”. Something that isn’t a flat out rejection.

“Of course I want to live with you, you plank.”

“Shit, Dean.” Aidan breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Don’t scare me like that!” He crosses the room to kneel on the floor in front of Dean’s chair. 

“I don’t want to fight any more. I know that you’re angry with me and I understand,” he says. He fully comprehends that Dean is upset for getting kidnapped and hurt because of Aidan.

“I’m not angry with you,” Dean begins, but changes his mind. “Well, maybe I am. I know it’s stupid and I don’t want to be, but…” He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s just so much stuff.”

“I know,” Aidan nods slowly and takes Dean’s hands in his. “But if you really still want to move in with me, let me just shower really quickly and then I’ll show you something.”

A small smile lights up Dean’s face.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it.”

Aidan smiles back, incredibly relieved that they are okay for the time being. Knowing Dean, he is going to bring the argument back up later to resolve it, but not now. And definitely not once Aidan has taken him to the house. For today, they are almost back to normal.

“I’ll be right back,” he says and when he leaves for his shower, he can feel his phone vibrating in his pocket.

“Come to Hyde Park Corner tomorrow at 8. Iago.”


	13. Oh you're so naive yet so…

It is ten past eight and there is no sign of Iago. Aidan paces up and down the street in front of Hyde Park Corner station. He’s nervous, he’s angry and even though he went through every single scenario he can imagine for the meeting with Iago, he still has no idea how he is going to react when he finally lays eyes on him. He wants to punch him, wants to make him bite the kerbside and kick his head and leave him there, like Aidan was left, hoping for someone to help. 

But the street is quite busy, and while Aidan cannot guarantee anything, chances are that Iago’s teeth are safe for the time being. He wonders if Iago plans to lure him into the park and have him killed behind some bushes or if he is going for drama by pushing Aidan in front of the number 14 bus.

At quarter past, Aidan begins to consider that Iago isn’t going to show up and it makes him furious. He is done with Iago’s games and he wants this settled once and for all.

“Where the hell are you?” he texts and receives a reply so quickly, that he is convinced Iago has been waiting with his phone in his hand.

“Having dinner at Nobu. Metropolitan Hotel. Join me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Aidan whispers to himself and glares at the message, before huffing at his own stupidity. Of course Iago would want to meet him in a Michelin starred restaurant where there is no possible way for making a scene or for things to end unpleasantly.

And then there is the tone of the message that is all wrong. It sounds too casual, too friendly. He doesn’t like it at all, but if he wants to see Iago today, he has the option of camping out in front of the restaurant until he leaves or go in and hope for Iago’s sake that they don’t offer any flambéed dishes or anything that is deep-fried table-side, because Aidan isn’t sure if he could keep himself under control next to a tub of boiling oil. He might be tempted to dump it over Iago’s head.

Irritated by the fact that, once again, he is complying with Iago’s plan, he makes his way around the Wellington Arch and into Park Lane where he finds the Metropolitan Hotel after a short walk. 

No one looks at him twice as he crosses the lobby and walks towards the lift. It is his special skill to walk into any hotel lobby in the world and look inconspicuous and like he knows exactly where he is going. Job experience.

He has never been to Nobu, but that isn’t necessary to know that he isn’t dressed for it. There is a large mirror in the lift and while he is going up, he checks his reflection. Black boots, grey jeans, his favourite, worn black leather jacket and a t-shirt that Aidan would call bright blue, but Dean, who actually knows the name of every freaking colour, described as cobalt. He has a pair of sunglasses in his pocket that he puts on. Nobu is well known for its star clientele and he hops that he might pass as one of those arsehole, hipster D-List celebrities that no one really _knows_ , but who still get away with being too cool for dress codes. He is glad that he hasn’t shaved for a few days and that a haircut is long overdue. He runs his hands through his hair, ruffling the curls to complete the look that falls somewhere between homeless and stylish.

It’s not so much that he honestly cares what he looks like, he just doesn’t want to get stopped and sent away at the door. Not in front of Iago.

He sets his jaw and allows his anger to fuel his confidence. Surprisingly, the hostess has no trouble letting him into the packed restaurant, even though he feels like a complete dick for wearing shades inside and at night-time. She leads him to Iago’s table right away without any questions asked, when he tells her that he came to meet someone.

A few people sitting at the bar and in the restaurant crane their necks to get a better look at him, probably hoping that he is, in fact, a celebrity and they can boast about how they had their dinner at the same restaurant as “that bloke from the telly” or “the lad that plays for that club”. 

It seems very much like Iago has had no doubt that Aidan would show up. His place is set and there is even a second glass of white wine waiting. Aidan, though, only has eyes for Iago. He looks exactly like Aidan remembered him, pale, skinny and arrogant. Impeccably dressed and not at all like someone who is on the run from the police.

“Aidan,” Iago says with a smile that might have been friendly on another person, but looks just sneering on him. “It’s good to see you. Please, have a seat.”

Aidan could not disagree more about seeing Iago, but he still takes the chair opposite him. He is offered a menu, but declines. The last thing he wants to do is share a friendly meal with the man who pretty much ruined his life and got away with it.

“You look good. Did you lose weight?”

Yeah, Aidan thinks, that is what constant anxiety does to you. Being unable to eat, feeling genuinely not hungry most of the time, but moving nervously throughout the day and during the night, when the nightmares keep him awake. Of course he doesn’t expose that particular weakness to Iago.

“No,” he says instead, as calmly as he can. “We are not going to sit here and chat like old friends.”

“You were always so hostile towards me,” Iago says with a sigh. “I hope you know that it is completely unjustified to feel that I have done you wrong.”

It is obvious to Aidan that Iago is trying to wind him up and he hates to admit that he is successful. 

“Oh yeah? So everything you did to me was what? Pure love?” 

“What do you think it is that I have done to you?” Iago asks and unlike Aidan, he is entirely serene and composed. Or just one hell of an actor.

“Where do I start?” Aidan snaps. He could begin by listing all the times Iago ridiculed him in front of his colleagues and treated him like a dumb piece of meat that was good for nothing except getting fucked for money. But he supposes that one is just as much on him, because he allowed Iago to do it. “How about the time you almost had me killed? That one really stands out.”

“Well,” Iago begins and takes his time dipping a piece of sushi into the tiny bowl of soy sauce next to his plate. He puts it in his mouth and chews for a long time, before finally finishing his thought. “You never gave me a chance to explain, or, indeed, apologise for that unfortunate incident.” 

“I don’t need your apologies,” he growls between clenched teeth instead. If he weren’t so mad, he would laugh at the cheek of him.

“Always so dramatic,” Iago comments dryly. “With you I was never sure if it’s Irish temper or…” He gestures towards Aidan’s face. “What else do you have in there? Italian? Spanish temper? Or if it’s just a gay thing. You’re like me, difficult to read, I always liked that about you.”

“I’m nothing like you,” Aidan replies, wondering why it is so easy for Iago to manipulate him. He gets so upset with the things he says that he almost forgets about the real reason he came. To get Iago off his and more importantly, off Dean’s back. He opens his mouth to steer the conversation in that direction, but Iago stops him with a gesture of his long-fingered hand.

“I am truly sorry for what happened to you.” Aidan rolls his eyes exasperatedly. An apology, fake or sincere won’t change anything. “Even if you chose to believe nothing else I say, be certain that it was never intended to go as far as it did. I may not be entirely free of blame for putting you in that situation, but my instructions were very specific, you were not to be damaged.” 

“Damaged?” Aidan runs his hands through his hair and has half a mind to get up and leave. This is ridiculous. For Iago he is just some kind of commodity to be sold at the best price. A product that gains in value with experience and refinement and loses value with age and damage. 

“Hurt.” Iago corrects his choice of vocabulary. “They weren’t supposed to hurt you. I was livid when I received the footage.”

Aidan leans over to grab Iago’s wrist. To everyone else it might have looked like a friendly, affectionate gesture, but Aidan’s fingers are digging deeply into Iago’s skin. The corner of his lip twitches satisfied, when he can feel Iago’s pulse speeding up. There seems to be a lot more to this story and while Iago had Aidan’s interest before, he now has his full attention.   
“You are going to tell me everything. I want the entire story.”

He maintains eye contact with Iago, while his grip tightens until Iago finally caves, squirms and twists his hand away.

“Fine,” he replies, massaging his wrist, while Aidan subconsciously wipes his hand on his jeans. It is his first victory over Iago, ever and while he isn’t necessarily a fan of using violence he is glad to know that he has the option, should he need to resort to it. Iago lowers his voice to a whisper. “I was approached by a client who has a partiality for rape videos. He was very specific about what he wanted and, thinking only about what is best for you, I made the arrangements for him. I told the, ehm, ‘actors’ that they should make it look realistic, but not to take it too far.”

“Who was the client? Do I know him?” Aidan asks, his eyes narrowed. There are a few perverts he could think of that would enjoy that particular video. Iago looks around the restaurant before shaking his head.

“Don’t ask about him,” he says and there is a warning tone in his voice that makes Aidan simultaneously want to know more and never ask again.

“You’ve done it before, though,” he says instead to change the subject for now. Iago makes it sound like a one-time thing, but Aidan remembers sitting at the police station with DI Freeman telling him that there are more videos like his. For a second Iago looks like he wants to deny it.

“Yes,” he admits. “And it always went very well. I had no reason to believe that it would be different in your case. A deal must have been struck between the actors and the client.”

“And then you sold the video on the internet,” Aidan makes a face as if he had eaten something rotten and that is exactly how Iago’s greed makes him feel. 

“What was I supposed to do? The video, shocking though it was, was excellent and the damage was done. I lost my business, my house, I had to make money in some way.”

“Aw, I feel for you,” Aidan says sarcastically, but somehow he believes Iago’s version of the story. Maybe not every detail. He doesn’t see Iago as an innocent bystander, but overall, it seems plausible. Aidan was always in demand. He made a lot of appointments at good rates. He rarely got one hour dates that were usually more trouble than they were worth and everyone was raving about him. There was no reason for Iago to try and sabotage him. Still, there are parts of this tale he doesn’t understand yet. “What about Jola?” 

It still pains him to talk about her and he can see something that resembles human emotion on Iago’s face as well.

“It had to be done,” Iago replies, his voice even quieter than before. “She really carried a torch for you, let me tell you. When she found out about the client and the video she wanted to go to the police.”

“So you killed her.”

“I had no choice!” Iago replies, his voice a lot louder now, making a few heads turn their way curiously. It is the first time Aidan has witnessed Iago dropping his façade and he wonders if it was fear he saw. “You just can’t fool this man.”

“Did she suffer?” Aidan asks quietly and Iago shakes his head.

“No. It was… decent.” He is, once more, disgusted by Iago’s detachment. He knows that Iago appreciated Jola for more than just her services as a housekeeper. He allowed her to bring flowers into his house and turn the place into a home for him.

“Decent,” Aidan repeats with a humourless laugh. “You are talking about a murder here. I could call the police and have you arrested right now.”

“You could try. But then ask yourself, why do you think I am able to enjoy dinner in one of London’s finest restaurants if I am indeed a fugitive?”

Aidan figured it was a hiding in plain sight kind of thing, but Iago doesn’t appear to be bluffing.

“But I stopped by your house. It was empty.”

“I had to make some compromises,” Iago admits with a shrug and starts preparing another piece of sushi as if they didn’t just discuss a murder. A murder _he_ committed. Aside from the little glimpses Aidan caught just moments earlier, there is no sign of empathy no sign of regret and it makes Aidan even more certain that he wants to settle this and then stay the hell away from Iago for the rest of his life. 

“Right, so,” Aidan rubs his face with his hand. He is tired of this and frustrated and feels completely defeated. “If all your intentions were good, then why, why did you come for Dean? I don’t understand.”

“You still think that it was me.” Iago sounds very condescending, very “poor Aidan, just can’t figure it out”. He shakes his head once again. “Think about it, Aidan. How could I have done it? How would I have known that you went to Amsterdam? How would I have known where you’d be and when well enough to plan it? Come on!”

“You could have done it easily. You’ve been watching me the entire time.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t spend as much time thinking about you as you wish I did. When I saw you at my old house from across the street, where I live now – thanks to you – I figured you wanted to get in touch and so I called you and that is the only time I saw you or tried to make contact with you since you made it so abundantly clear that you had no further interest in working for me.”

“But…” Aidan frowns, trying to work it out. It doesn’t make sense. He can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt him and the thought of sweet, gentle Dean having any enemies is just ridiculous. “Who? All the things that happened can’t be a coincidence. I called you back and there was a polish woman on the phone. And one of your guys broke into my flat. It… it doesn’t make sense.”

He reaches for the wine glass that has been sitting in front of him untouched. He holds it without drinking from it.

“Yes, it does. _Think_ about it, Aidan.” Iago fixes his pale eyes on him. “Who could have done it? Who knows everything about you? Where you are, what you’re doing?”

“Dean,” Aidan says spontaneously and immediately feels dumb for saying it. “Uhm, Adam and, I guess, Graham.” 

“Maybe think of someone who isn’t a close friend.” Iago looks like he will seriously hurt Aidan if he doesn’t come up with a more sensible answer soon.

Aidan rubs his eye with the heel of his free hand. Ben and Richard knew about his holiday to Amsterdam, but they love Aidan and they adore Dean and have been raging about the pictures he takes for their website. 

“Think about a client,” Iago says, speaking very clearly now. “Someone you don’t want to mess with. Someone who has the power to get a person immunity from the police.” He points at himself. “Someone who is very fond of you.”

Aidan wonders why Iago is telling him now after making such a big deal about not saying anything. He is clearly afraid of this man and he might possibly see a way to get rid of him by letting Aidan handle it. He stares at his glass until the penny finally drops.

“No,” he says flat out refusing to believe the only possible candidate. “He wouldn’t. Jimmy is…”

The thing is, it just makes perfect sense. From Jimmy’s visit at the hospital that came just a little too soon after the attack had happened, to the way he insists on making plans for Aidan all the time. He has been running a long con on Aidan ever since Dean came into his life and twice he almost succeeded in getting him out of the picture. Once, when he offered Aidan the job as his personal escort and the second time when he kidnapped Dean.

“Fuck,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else. He can feel the terror building in his stomach like a snowball rolling downhill. His heart starts beating harder and faster, raising the level of adrenaline in his body with every beat.

“Fuck,” he repeats and takes a sip from his glass to help with his mouth that has suddenly gone very dry. With trembling fingers he sets the glass down on the table, but knocks it over accidentally. He can see it falling almost in slow-motion. It hits the edge of his plate and shatters, spilling Chablis and shattered glass all over the table.

He jumps up from his chair and leans on the table, without even noticing the shards of glass that cut into his palms.

“Is it true?” he asks and the raised eyebrow he receives in response is enough. “If it turns out that you were lying, so help me God, I will end you.” He doesn’t care who is watching or who is listening in on their conversation. He is dead serious.

“I understand,” Iago replies and pushes his chair back a little, when a waitress comes over to clean up the table. Aidan gives Iago one last threatening snarl before he turns around to storm out of the restaurant.

The thoughts are racing in his head when he gets out into the street. He simultaneously lights up a cigarette and dials Dean’s number on his phone.

“Come on, come on, come on, pick up,” he mumbles under his breath, while pushes his way through the evening crowd out on the street. Some protest and shout at him when he shoves them out of the way a little too roughly, but he honestly couldn’t care less.

“Hi, Babe!” Hearing Dean’s voice makes Aidan breathe a sigh of relief. “I can’t really talk right now, the light is just perfect.”

“No, wait, Dean!” Aidan practically yells before Dean can hang up on him. “Where are you?”

“Uhm… Southwark, I guess. I’m not really sure.”

“What the fuck are you in Southwark for? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Out of all the places in London, Dean just had to pick the one borough with a ridiculously high crime rate to spend his evening.

“Please, don’t hold back,” Dean replies, a little taken aback. “I’m not alone. I told you, I have a date with the lovely Miss Bold tonight.”

“Wha…?” Aidan begins, but then remembers that Dean and Adam made plans for a photoshoot. They are creating a poster for Adam’s last performances as Arial Bold. Even though he feels slightly better to know that Dean isn’t on his own, he isn’t sure how much protection Adam in a dress and heels would offer, should anything happen. “I need both of you to come home straight away. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t help any old ladies across the street, just pack your things and come home.”

“Aww, I miss you too, Aidan, but, seriously, the evening is gorgeous and Adam looks just stunning. We can’t just…”

“Dean!” Aidan interrupts him impatiently. “Just, for once, do what I say. Please. It’s Jimmy.”

“Huh? Did something happen to him? Is he okay? Is this about the house?”

Aidan shakes his head, even though Dean can’t see him. With blood dripping from his hands, he fights the urge to rub his face powerlessly. His palms are stinging and when he takes a closer look, he can see glass stuck underneath the skin.

“Aid? I can hear you breathing. Come on, talk to me.” 

He can’t say it. If he says it, it becomes more than a theory inside his head. Coincidences that he may have twisted in his mind to fit a pattern. If he tells Dean, then Dean will confirm these things and he is going to have to accept that he didn’t twist anything.

“Jimmy is trying to…” Aidan remembers what Jimmy said to him during their last meeting. _I marked you, now you’re mine._ “He is trying to make me his. And I don’t think anything will stop him now.”

“Fuck,” he hears Dean breathe and, yeah, that sums it up nicely.


	14. I don’t think there’s an App for that

“I sang for him,” Aidan laments and drops his head onto his arms. It is the first thing anyone has said in a while. He is sitting around the kitchen table with Dean, Adam and Graham and after a heated discussion of what to do next everyone has gone silent. “When we were in LA, we went to a club and there was karaoke and he made me sing. Bad Romance. There’s a video. There’s a video of me on a stage, singing a song that includes the lyrics ‘I want your disease’ and ‘I want it bad’ to Jimmy.”

“Well, it could’ve been worse. It could have been My Heart will go on,” Adam suggests helpfully. “Actually that would have been so cool, because, you know, Aidan, you’re like Rose in the movie and Dean is Jack, the poor artist and Jimmy is like that rich guy who wants Rose for himself. What was his name again?”

Aidan lifts his head again to stare daggers at Adam, who has a tendency to babble, when he’s nervous.

“Sorry,” Adam says meekly. “How’s your hand?”

Aidan lifts the bandage on his left hand, which had the worst cut, carefully.

“Stopped bleeding,” he replies, relieved that the wound is closing and he doesn’t need to get stitches. He rests his head on his arms again. He knows he should be furious and out for blood, but the well-meant dose of his anxiety medication that Dean has given him has left him feeling dazed, empty and exhausted, like his limbs and head are too heavy and it takes too much effort to lift them.

“Remember, what I said to you about the smoke alarms we had installed?” Dean thoughtfully says. When he first came home, he was livid that Aidan went to meet Iago behind his back, but he calmed down significantly, after hearing everything Aidan had learned from him.

“You said they looked odd.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “The new ones all had this strange little hole and when we went to the house, the one Jimmy bought, someone had changed the smoke detectors there as well. When we saw the house the first time, they didn’t have holes in them, only the second time, after Jimmy had bought it.”

“So? It’s a new design.” Aidan frowns, confused by Dean’s sudden obsession with fire safety. 

“He thinks that there might be something hidden inside the smoke detectors,” Graham explains patiently. “Like a microphone or a camera.”

“What?!” Aidan and Adam gasp simultaneously.

“That’s creepy!” Adam shudders and Aidan thinks that creepy is a gross understatement. The thought that Jimmy might have been observing them every single day, from doing the dishes to, well, doing each other is so disturbing and upsetting that Aidan just wants to crawl into the nearest hole and die. It isn’t even so much the fact that Jimmy might have seen him naked or in bed with Dean. That doesn’t bother him as much as the invasion of his alone time. There are things you do in the privacy of your own home that no one else is allowed to see. There are things he did, he would never in front of Dean. He sings and dances sometimes when he cooks or cleans while he waits for Dean to come home and that is for no one to see. That is his own private thing he does and, in a way, it makes him feel violated.

“You should check that first thing in the morning. If it is the case, you have some evidence to take to the police.” Graham continues.

“Evidence of what?” Aidan asks, his tone flat and defeated. “That some pervert installed cameras. How does that link back to Jimmy?”

“If they are cameras, the videos have to go somewhere, don’t they? I can’t imagine that Jimmy or _someone_ would stop by our flat regularly to collect tapes. So I would assume WiFi. If the police can figure out where the files go…” Dean pauses thoughtfully. “If the cameras have motion sensors they won’t even record empty rooms all the time and that would help with the file size and the battery. You can get those kind of cameras with a one year battery life, but they are ridiculously expensive.”

“That’s not really an issue. I’d say.” Aidan pokes at the bandage on his hand, almost enjoying the sharp pain he gets in response. It hurts, but he still prefers it to the numbness he feels, or rather doesn’t feel, in the rest of his body and mind. It’s _something_.

“The important thing is to stay calm,” Graham says, as composed as he can manage, while Adam gently pulls Aidan’s hands apart to stop him from inflicting more pain on himself. “While I think we can assume that Jimmy knows the two of you are staying here, we can take comfort in the fact that there are no secret cameras in this house that I know about.”

Aidan honestly tries to laugh at Graham’s attempt at a joke, but he can’t even muster a smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly to the table, unable to look at his friends. He can’t believe the things he is putting them through and he really can’t believe that they haven’t abandoned him, yet. Even without looking up, he knows that the three of them are communicating wordlessly with each other. They are worried, he can feel their discomfort. They are worried that he will try to do something to himself again. He doesn’t think he would, but he can’t be sure. He needs to check again, once the drugs stopped he doesn’t feel so damn apathetic.

“I think I should go to bed.” If he sleeps, he will be safe from himself, most likely, and everyone can relax. It scares him that he is back at that thin line between living and giving up again. Maybe he isn’t toeing it yet, but he is definitely not more than a step away from it.

 

He wakes up early the next morning and, to his own surprise, he isn’t as angry as he thought he would be. He feels depressed and betrayed by his friend more than anything. Quietly he gets out of bed and gets dressed in the clothes he peeled off yesterday and left on the floor.

In the semi-darkness of the living room he scribbles a note for Dean on an empty pizza box.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just getting breakfast!”

He still feels a little fuzzy from the rather large dose of his anxiety meds, but the walk helps to clear his head. The small Mediterranean restaurant that Aidan and Dean walked past a few times, always intrigued by the smell coming from inside, is only a few blocks down the road, but Aidan takes his time getting there, allowing his mind to wander. 

He tries to remember the good times he had with Jimmy. The time they played hide and seek at IKEA or the time they went miniature golfing, but were kicked out shortly, because instead of golfing they used the clubs to play air guitar. Whether they went horse-riding or skydiving or spent an afternoon curled up in bed watching a stupid old black and white movie, Aidan always enjoyed Jimmy’s company. And now, when he thinks about him, he feels an incredible rage that cancels everything good about him. For months, Aidan has been miserable, suffering from the aftermath of getting raped and humiliated. That Jimmy had the cheek to drag Dean into this as well is even worse and Aidan is struggling to see the reason for any of it. He does understand why Jimmy had the video made. Even though he doesn’t comprehend the full thought process behind it, on a basic level, he gets the idea. Some people have weird kinks and sometimes they don’t know where to stop. He may not like what Jimmy made him go through, but at least there is an excuse. Not good one, but an excuse nonetheless. Everything that happened after that stops making sense entirely. Having someone break into his flat, installing cameras, kidnapping Dean. All of that is just complete madness!

While he waits for his breakfast to be prepared and packed up, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He fully expects a text from Dean checking up on him and is surprised to see that it’s Jimmy’s name that pops up. His grip tightens around the phone and he has to take a deep breath before he swipes his thumb across the display.

“Any thoughts about the house?” 

He desperately wants to put all his anger and betrayal in a reply. “How dare you even talk to me, you fucking bastard?”, something along those lines, but after thinking about the right words to express how he is feeling he realises that it might be dangerous to give Jimmy any indication that he knows. It might lead to a reaction no one can foresee.

“Not yet,” he writes and can’t stop himself from adding just a little dig. He needs to feel like he has the upper hand just once. “We need to discuss it some more. In private.”

“I understand,” Jimmy writes back, just as Aidan’s food is ready. “Thanks.”

Aidan frowns at the screen with a dreadful feeling in his stomach. Unless Jimmy got the hint that they needed _privacy_ , one of the things he took from them, why would he thank him? 

 

It is almost two in the afternoon, Aidan and Dean make the trip to Aidan’s flat in almost complete silence. There isn’t much either of them has to say, nothing that will make the situation any more bearable. They took a taxi, after deciding that it is safer than public transportation and even the taxi driver seems to pick up on their sombre mood and doesn’t force any small talk on them.

Aidan stares out of the window for most of the ride, watching the city he used to love so much. Now London feels threatening and emotionless and he kind of sees Adam’s point about raising children in the city. It can be done, absolutely, but he wouldn’t want to do it. He is glad that he was raised in an environment where you actually worry, when you hear strange noises coming from your neighbour, rather than just turn up the volume on the telly.

While Dean has gone back to the flat several times to pick up clothes and other necessities, it is the first time for Aidan since returning from Amsterdam. The place that used to be his home for years and still has most of his things, feels cold and uninviting. Especially going into the bedroom feels daunting, but he talks himself into doing it anyway. He looks up at the smoke detector and even though he never would have noticed it, now that he knows what he is looking for, he can clearly see the hole that doesn’t seem to have any purpose at all. He climbs onto the bed to reach the ceiling and unscrews the smoke detector from its socket to inspect it more closely. 

“I’m not sure, but I think there is something in there,” Dean says, looking over Aidan’s shoulder. Unceremoniously, Aidan smashes the plastic casing onto the floor, breaking it open. Dean bends down.

“Yeah, that’s a camera.” He picks it up and holds it in his palm for Aidan to see. “A good one, too. State of the art.”

“Did you really expect anything else?” Aidan leans in, wondering if the camera is still working and if he is giving a nice close up of his open mouth or up his nose. “That fucking bastard, though.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees in his usual downplayed way, even though Aidan can tell that Dean is just as livid as he is himself. Aidan gives his shoulder a supportive squeeze before walking from room to room to look at the other devices. They are all the same. All of them have that same hole in them.

“I’m calling,” he says without touching any of them, hoping that there might be fingerprints on them the police can use. Dean nods his encouragement.

He scrolls through his contacts for Detective Freeman’s number. He liked his no-bullshit approach and blunt honesty from the get go and Freeman always encouraged him to call directly, if there was anything new to his case.

Of course Freeman has just left the office for another investigation, but the lady answering his phone promises to send an officer around.

The two policemen that arrive are young but seem capable enough. They take pictures, statements, bag and tag every smoke detector in the flat, even the broken one. They have the eager thoroughness of lads at the bottom of the food chain trying to climb up the ladder.

“So this bloke’s a pro, huh?” One of the policemen says to the other as they search for more hidden cameras in the room. Aidan stops himself from walking into the room with two mugs of coffee and hides just out of sight to eavesdrop. “I don’t know man. I would never be desperate enough to pay for it.”

“Let’s make no mistake, no whore would touch you. Not for all the money in the world,” the other policeman replies with a laugh. “But maybe he’d make an exception for you. If you bend over for him and he won’t have to look at your face!”

“You’re not as funny as you think you are. But seriously, what about this up the arse nonsense anyway? Tried it with Tiff a while back and it was nice. Tight. But the mess! There was stuff on my Willie that simply should not be on there!”

If Aidan didn’t have both hands full, he would have face-palmed. Straight people and their idea of how anal sex works is just embarrassing. It should be fairly obvious that you go through extensive preparations to avoid any unpleasant surprises. And if you happen to be so horny that there is no time to prepare, there are condoms that help and, oh, maybe being an adult about it! 

“Gross! I just had lunch!” The second policeman says. “There must be some freaky shit on these tapes, though.”

“Have you seen the video of him that Martin has? Nasty stuff. He won’t show it to you, so don’t ask, but Tim from IT has it. He hates poofs so much, he’ll show it to anyone.”

Both policemen laugh at that and while Aidan considers whether he should kick them out straightaway or file a complaint against them, when one of them says something that makes his blood run cold.

“Well, the bloke who did it is supposedly dead, so there’s really no point searching for more cameras if he isn’t around to watch this shite anyway.”

Aidan holds his breath and leans in closer, hoping to learn more who died and how. Whether it was the guy who was paid to rape him or Iago or even Jimmy. He doesn’t know who he’d be happiest to see gone.

“So far all they’ve found is a suicide note. But you’re right, let’s finish this up,” the other one says. “Maybe Martin’s already back at the station with some news and I can’t wait to get out of queer central.”

“You know that gay doesn’t rub off on you if you get too close to it, right?” The policeman laughs. “It’s not a disease.”

“I better not take my chances… Where is he with that bleedin’ coffee?”

Aidan takes a long drink from said coffee and leans back against the wall, wondering who died and if he or Dean are going to be next.

The police leave without having had their coffee and when Aidan goes to pick up his jacket, he finds that he has a new message from Jimmy.

“I really wish you would have talked to me before calling the authorities.”

Aidan steps up to the window to look down at the street, hoping against hope that he sees Jimmy there, only to prove that the cameras weren’t his. That somehow he’s still the man Aidan thought he was and not the monster he appears to be. Of course, there is no one there.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he texts back, before realising that it isn’t entirely true. “Did you kill Iago?”

“Kill Iago? Why would I kill Iago?”

“For ratting you out,” Aidan types, but then deletes the words again. If Jimmy doesn’t know about it yet, it wouldn’t be smart to point it out.

“He’s here right now, just hanging around, as you young folk say,” Jimmy continues, when Aidan doesn’t reply. 

“Ready to go?” Dean comes up from behind, startling Aidan, when he wraps his arms around him. Aidan tucks his phone back into his pocket. “It’s getting late. I have to…”

“You have that meeting today, of course.” Aidan remembers. Before Amsterdam Dean has talked about little else than the gallery that might exhibit some of his paintings. After their trip it seemed to have become less important somehow and Aidan feels bad for almost forgetting about it entirely. “I’m more than ready to leave,” he says after one final look over the roofs of the neighbouring houses.

 

Usually Aidan enjoys spending time alone, but with Dean off to his meeting, Adam at work and Graham out for a drink with some colleagues the house is entirely too quiet.

Putting on music or the telly doesn’t help. It only makes him more anxious, so he paces from room to room, and around the back garden, thinking hard about everything he learned that day. It dawns on him that he simply may not have asked the right questions. He only ever asked if Jimmy killed Iago, not if Iago committed suicide.

“Is Iago dead?” he writes to Jimmy. 

“Nah, he’s hanging in there.” Aidan frowns at the words. There is again that odd hanging reference that Jimmy made earlier. He has a horrible feeling that something is very, very wrong and he has no idea how to fix it. He stuffs the phone back into his pocket and resumes his pacing until, just moments later the doorbell startles him. It is too early for Dean, Adam or Graham to return, and they all have their own keys anyway.

He sneaks closer to the door, hoping to figure out who is calling without arousing attention. A second ring makes him almost jump and he runs his hands through his hair to compose himself. He is getting paranoid and he knows it. It is probably just sweet Mr Lowe from next door, checking if they have any teabags for him.

He can’t bring himself to open, even though he feels like a dick for not helping out an old man. He waits motionless until he hears receding footsteps. After counting to ten slowly, he dares to look out of the window next to the door. Of course, there is no one there anymore. He opens the door bit by bit to take a look down the street, but there is no one walking away, making Aidan even more certain that it was really just a neighbour calling.

He feels exceedingly stupid for his paranoia, but he still puts the chain back on the door, but when he turns around he wishes he hadn’t. It’s _him_. It’s that guy again who raped him and broke into his flat weeks later. That tall, tattooed, bulldozer of a man that stands before him in the hallway, blocking it entirely.

“’ello, darlin’,” he says with a smirk. “You shouldn’t leave your back door unattended. Anyone could come right in.”

For a second Aidan thinks he deserves it, for falling for the oldest trick in the book. Cause a diversion at the front door and come in through the back, but he pushes the thought aside and turns back around to face the door. Panicked and with trembling fingers he fumbles with the chain, but before he can remove it all the way, the guy has already grabbed him from behind and crashes him into the nearest wall, knocking all the wind out of him.

His face is pressed against a framed picture of Adam on stage in a beautiful gown and Aidan tries to get his hand up to smash it. Get a shard of glass to try and defend himself, but the guy knows what he is doing. Within seconds he has Aidan pinned in a tight and painful one-handed grip.

His free hand moves around Aidan groping around his crotch.

“Please don’t,” Aidan whispers defeated and turns his head slightly to rest his forehead against the glass. He can’t do this again. He can’t be raped again, it would kill him.

“What does the whore say?” The guy breathes into Aidan’s ear with a disgusted tone. “I know you want it, you filthy slut.”

Aidan shakes his head desperately. There is nothing he can do to stop this, but this time he won’t struggle. He won’t give Jimmy the satisfaction of another rape video if that is what he wants.

Surprisingly, though, the guys hand moves away, feeling for Aidan’s phone in his pocket. He pulls it out with a satisfied “ha”.

“What the…?” Aidan tries to free himself one more time. Strangely, having his phone taken away makes him feel more vulnerable than getting pushed into the wall by the man who hurt him before.

“I’m not here for a second round today. Not right now, anyway.” He holds the phone out for Aidan to see. “You’ll get this back if you do exactly as I say. Jimmy wants to see you, so you will get in the car with me, nice and civilised, like the good little slag that you are and I’m not going to hear a peep out of you. Understood?”

“What if I don’t?” Aidan asks. 

“Jimmy said you’d ask,” the guy says and pockets Aidan’s phone before pulling out his own. He shows Aidan a picture of Jimmy with his arm around a woman. They are standing in front of a sign that says “New London Arts” and Aidan’s heart sinks in his chest. It is the gallery that Dean is at right now. Of course it is. He closes his eyes and can _feel_ himself become compliant and submissive. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll come.”

When he moves away from the wall, the picture falls and Aidan thinks that it might at least be a hint that he didn’t leave on his own free will.


	15. I’m coming to the final chapter

Aidan should have guessed that Jimmy would want to meet him at _the_ house. It is just the way his mind works. Showing Aidan what he could have to convince him that he wants it, even if it is too late for that. Aidan never wants anything from Jimmy again.

The driver opens the front door that leads right into the massive open room that would make a spectacular living room and allows Aidan to enter the house first. Jimmy is there, looking out the window with his back turned, but Aidan barely notices him, for something else captures his attention immediately.

Iago. 

Like a grotesque piece of art, he is hanging from a rope slung over the exposed roof trussing. It is wrapped around his feet, leaving him to dangle upside down. For the briefest moment, Aidan feels satisfaction, but the thoughts are pushed aside immediately by the sheer horror of the scene in front of him.

“Holy fucking…” he breathes and, completely disregarding the other two men, crosses the room to get to Iago.

Close up he looks even worse than from afar. It seems like he has been in the same inverted position for hours. His hands that are dangling just above the hardwood floor are purple and swollen so severely that the ring on Iago’s finger cuts into the flesh deeply. His face is the same shade of reddish-purple as his hands it is swollen and almost bruised looking as well. Even though he is unconscious, his eyes are only half lidded. Stomach liquid is succumbing to gravity and tickles from his mouth and over his face in yellowish little streams. 

“Iago?” Aidan kneels down at Iago’s head, touching his bare shoulder gently. “Can you hear me? Peter?” It feels odd to use his real name, but it seems appropriate in the situation. He shakes him a little harder, calls his name a little louder, but still doesn’t get a response out of him.

“Get him down!” He turns from Jimmy to the guy frantically. He tries to lift Iago’s head just to give him some relief, but he can’t do it on his own. He stands to look at the knot at Iago’s feet, but it is too high up for Aidan to get a good look and even if he managed to untie him, Iago would just fall onto his head. “Help him! Jimmy, please!”

“Ah, I wish I could,” Jimmy says calmly, “but he needs to be punished.” He turns around and gives the guy waiting at the door a nod, dismissing him.

“Why?” Aidan asks, even though he knows the answer already. It is _his_ fault.

“He didn’t keep his mouth shut,” Jimmy replies, confirming Aidan’s suspicion. He walks over and gives Iago a little push, making him swing back and forth slightly. “At this point it doesn’t even matter. I suspect the brain damage is irreparable by now.”

“God, no!” Aidan presses his wrist to his mouth to muffle his words. As much as he hates Iago for everything he did and may have done, he doesn’t deserve this. “But… what about that suicide note they found?”

“I may have told him that he had to leave the country because you were going to go to the police and that a suicide note would get the police off his case. But let’s talk about something more pleasant. You’re here now. I’m so glad you came.”

Aidan grits his teeth to stop himself from saying that he isn’t here by choice. 

“You’re so shy today, come on, give us a hug and a kiss.”

“No,” Aidan replies, putting his arms up in front of his chest protectively, while he takes a few steps back. He instantly relaxes his body language, though, when he sees Jimmy’s face darken. He needs to be smarter if he doesn’t want to end up like Iago. Jimmy seems to have lost all sense of reality and if Aidan wants to stay safe, he needs to play Jimmy. “I mean, I will, if you answer my questions first.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says with a wide smile. “I love when you act like you’re in charge. Go on, then, love, ask your questions.”

“Why did you try to have Dean killed?”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Jimmy says simply. “That was a truthful answer, now do I get my kiss?”

Aidan’s backwards walk is stopped, when his back is against the wall, making it difficult to escape. His eyes flicker from the horrid living centrepiece back to Jimmy.

“Fine,” he agrees begrudgingly. “A kiss for every answer.” Even though he feels goosebumps spread all over his body, when Jimmy kisses him, he sticks with it, pretending to enjoy it as well.

“The video,” Aidan says when Jimmy starts kissing down is neck. He always enjoyed that a lot, but now it makes his blood run cold. “Tell me about that.” There isn’t even a specific question he wants to ask, he just wants the whole thing explained to him.

“The video,” Jimmy repeats, brushing his hand over Aidan’s arm affectionately. “I just love to watch that kind of stuff. But the acting! Most of them are so badly made, you can tell it’s all just acting.”

“So you decided you wanted to have the real deal?” Aidan twists out of Jimmy’s arms to get some distance between them again. He can’t guarantee to stay cool and calm with Jimmy so close to him.

“I wanted something special,” Jimmy agrees, following Aidan. “You are so special to me, so it made sense to let you be the star of the movie.”

“Gee, thanks,” Aidan snaps irritated at the questionable honour, but he still allows Jimmy to kiss him again. 

“And I got to take care of you after. The time we spent in California was the best time of my life.”

Somehow, even through his rage, Aidan feels pity for Jimmy. There is clearly something fundamentally wrong with him.

“But you never laid a finger on me. If rape is what you’re into, I…” There is a long way between spanking, being a dominant, possessive top and a bit of occasional consent play and full on rape.

“I would never hurt you!” Jimmy exclaims as if the mere thought if it was incredibly offensive to him. “I have never hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just like to watch.”

Aidan thinks that Iago would probably beg to differ about getting hurt. He keeps moving along the wall until he is back at the same window where Jimmy fucked him the last time.

“Everything I did, I only did because I love you,” Jimmy continues and it sounds sincere to Aidan, which makes it even creepier. 

“But what you did, that’s not love! The cameras in my flat? Trying to kill my boyfriend? Having your lackey break into my home? That’s not love! That’s… disgusting!” Aidan is aware that he is raising his voice now, but somehow he has to get through to Jimmy.

“Maybe you don’t know what love is!” Jimmy responds, his voice growing louder as well. “I needed to make sure that you are safe, so I had the cameras installed. You boyfriend can’t give you what you need, so he needs to go and as for breaking into your flat, I had to show you how dangerous that place is. You need something that better suits your needs. Like this.” He makes a wide gesture. “Do you see now? Do you see that I only want what’s best for you?”

“No, I don’t see that!” Aidan covers his eyes with this hand. This is so fucked up, it makes him want to cry. “Everything you did only made things worse.”

“Maybe that is because you are an ungrateful little shite!”

“Ungrateful? You ruined everything!” Aidan shouts angrily. He can’t believe that Jimmy doesn’t see that. “I am thankful, I truly am, for everything you did before this, this obsession started. You know that I always liked you… loved you as a client and as a friend, but I was never _in love_ with you.”

“Why do you try to hurt me, Aidan?” Jimmy grabs his arms, trying to pin him in place, but Aidan shoves him aside roughly to get out of his cornered position.

“I’m not! But is going too far. You’re scaring me! You’re not the person I knew.” Jimmy had always been a little eccentric and unpredictable, but he had been sweet and kind as well and Aidan is almost certain that he never hung someone by his legs. He doesn’t know what caused this sudden change in the man he thought he knew inside and out, but if it was him, his behaviour, if he led Jimmy on, he is truly sorry about that.

He doesn’t know where else to turn to get away from Jimmy. The exit is locked and jumping out the window seems rather dangerous, although he keeps that in the back of his mind as a last resort. So far they have both been relatively calm, but he is afraid that things might turn around. The way Jimmy has his eyes fixed on him makes Aidan feel like he is the rabbit in front of the snake.

“So you’re saying that I can’t have you, is that it?”

“You can have me. You can have me right now,” Aidan spreads his arms invitingly, even though his heart is thumping in his chest and his fingers tremble at the thought of getting close to Jimmy again. He doesn’t know exactly what he is trying to achieve, whether he is playing for time, trying to convince Jimmy to let him go or find a way out for himself. He isn’t even sure what he is trying to get away from, what Jimmy’s plan is, ultimately. He is just certain that he won’t leave this house, return home and continue to live his life if Jimmy gets his way.

Jimmy actually crosses the room and walks towards him and it takes every bit of strength Aidan has not to shy away from him. Jimmy wraps his hand around the back of Aidan’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. It feels so natural to have Jimmy pressed up against him, the shape his hand makes at the base of his skull, the taste of his lips, Aidan almost doesn’t want the kiss to end. He wants keep in this safe, familiar zone and not pull back to look at the man he hardly recognises.

“I can have you?”

“Yes,” Aidan leans his forehead against Jimmy’s and runs his thumb gently over his chin. “For an hour, an afternoon or even a week, but not forever.” He doesn’t even attempt to lie to Jimmy and tell him that, sure, they are going to be together forever. He owes him as much honesty and Jimmy is too smart to believe a lie anyway. “Jimmy, look, even if Dean wasn’t there, I would still not fall in love with you. You’re grand, you’re so kind and we have so much fun together, but…” He shakes his head.

“I understand,” Jimmy replies with a heavy sigh. “Come on.” He places his hand on Aidan’s back and guides him to the door. He knocks sharply and Aidan can hear the key turning on the other side.

He can’t believe how easy this was and that staying calm and rational worked. He is actually rather proud of himself. Of course he is going to have to get the police involved, but for now, he feels really pleased with his achievement. 

“Thank you, Jimmy, for listening to me,” he says sincerely as the door swings open. The guy is blocking his way, standing there with a big old smirk on his face and it is in that particular moment that Aidan feels true, cold panic rise. This isn’t over. It hasn’t even begun.

 

He wakes up with a mouthful of blood and a crippling headache. He doesn’t have any idea how long he has been out, but long enough to be dragged back into the centre of the room and put onto a table, right next to Iago. _He knows_. He knows that he is going to be hung up as well. Terrified he attempts to get off the table, but is held in place as soon as he starts moving.

“Not yet, love,” Jimmy whispers and strokes the back of his head. “Wel’ll get started real soon.”

“No, Jimmy, please! Please don’t do that. I’ll do whatever you want.” He doesn’t care that he is begging. He is too frightened to care. He reaches out to wrap his arm around Jimmy’s leg and pulls himself to the edge of the table. He presses his face into the fabric of Jimmy’s trousers. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“You left me no choice,” Jimmy replies calmly. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

“But…” Aidan kicks at the hands tying a rope around his legs and feet. “You can have me. You really can. We can go away together. I won’t talk to anyone about this, ever. Not Dean, not the police. We could be happy together.” He’s babbling and he knows it, but he just prays that there is something in there that will make Jimmy reconsider.

“The police,” Jimmy laughs. “They won’t help you anyway. Martin is a close friend of mine, remember?”

Aidan digs his fingers tighter into Jimmy’s trousers.

“I could learn to love you,” he promises, barely keeping a sob out of his voice. He doesn’t want to die like this. The irony isn’t lost on him that he almost chose to hang himself just a few weeks ago, but he stopped then and he has to find a way to stop this now.

“Oh, Aidan, I wish that were true.” Jimmy moves his hand down his back in a soothing gesture that only makes Aidan feel more afraid. “Ready?”

“Ready,” the guy replies and Aidan is turned over onto his back. The first, feisty tuck on the rope lifts his legs off the table and drains him of all hope. The void in his heart is replaced by despair and terror. The second pull lifts most of his body off the table, leaving only his shoulders to support his weight.

“Jimmy, please! Please don’t!” He reaches out again, hoping to catch Jimmy’s hand in his, but he has stepped away just out of reach. Aidan grabs the edge of the table instead when he feels it getting pulled away. His head goes over the edge first, then the rest of his body follows. The drop is more painful than Aidan anticipated. The rope doesn’t have any give at all, nothing to soften the blow of the fall. He can hear little popping noises from his knees and spine. It is a little bit like cracking knuckles, only more painful. He feels out of breath for a moment, before he figures out that with the weight of his organs crushing into his diaphragm and lungs, deep breaths are no longer a reflex. He has to strain to get sufficient air into his lungs. “Take me down, Jimmy, please. Please!”

When he doesn’t get any response at all he starts screaming, hoping that someone else might hear him. He screams and screams until his vocal cords fail.

Only when he stops, does he notice that he is alone on the room, with just Iago as company. He takes a moment to calm down, close his eyes, focus and check up on his body. The rope cutting into his skin is quite sore, but the pain in his ankles and knees is worse than that. He isn’t entirely sure how these joints are built, but he thinks that there isn’t much but bone and ligament holding them together and that worries him. From the knees to the chest his body is uncomfortable but fine. His head feels warm and he still has that pounding headache. There is a lot of pressure behind his eyes that concerns him. He brings his hands in front of his face to inspect them. The veins in his hands are more prominent than usual and his fingers are throbbing, but he thinks he is doing well so far. He tries to pull himself up, grab the rope and get his head above his heart for a minute, but he fails miserably. To stay in shape, he does his sit-ups at the gym, but only as any as absolutely necessary. Now he curses himself for his laziness. 

He wipes his eyes with the heels of his hands before dropping them again. If he stretches his fingers he can just reach the ground and tries to take comfort in that, even though it doesn’t help at all. He is shivering with fear and exhaustion and even though he welcomed being alone initially, now he wishes there was someone else there. Someone he could try to talk into getting him down. He knows that there is a way to persuade Jimmy and even the other guy is a better option of getting released than no one at all.

To distract himself he counts the seconds that pass, but with the pain in his body increasing it is getting more and more challenging and he loses track before he reaches 1000. He raises his hands again, they are a little darker coloured than usually and feel a little swollen already. His head feels like it is going to explode and the pain in his legs is getting worse. There is a tingling sensation in his feet as if they are falling asleep and he reckons that is exactly what is happening.

“Help,” he whispers into the empty room. “Please, help me…”

He closes his eyes and drifts out of consciousness. When he opens them again, Jimmy is kneeling in front of him.

“You done screaming?” 

He isn’t. If he could, he would continue to scream, if only to express the pain. His left leg particularly is throbbing and feels on fire, all the way from the ankle to the hip.

“Please,” he begs weakly, his overused voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve learned my lesson. You’ve punished me enough.”

“I don’t think you have, Aidan.” Jimmy wipes a tear away from between Aidan’s eyebrows, before it can disappear in his hair. “Like I said, if I can’t have you…”

“No one can,” Aidan finishes feebly. “Then do it, kill me. Please, end this. If you ever liked me at all, please, help me.”

“Why would I do that, love? I’m not a murderer, remember?” Jimmy asks, making Aidan want to weep. If he doesn’t want Aidan to live and he doesn’t want him to die, what does he actually want? He looks over to Iago and remembers what Jimmy said to him earlier. Brain damage. He wants Aidan to be helpless and bedridden living corpse, unable to speak to the police or anyone about this and be nothing more than a burden on his friends and family. The concept is so incredibly evil, so despicable, Aidan is at a loss for words.

“Will you do something for me,” he asks after a while of silence. His head is feeling dizzy again and his vision is starting to go black around the edges. He knows that if he loses consciousness now, he will never get it back. This is _it_ and he needs one last favour from Jimmy. “Will you promise me to leave Dean alone?”

He fights to stay awake. The pain is unbearable now, but he needs to be sure.

“Promise me,” he repeats when Jimmy doesn’t answer.

“Fine. I have no interest in him anymore, anyway.”

Aidan nods his head barely noticeably and feels his eyes flutter shut, almost free from pain in blissful unconsciousness. 

 

He doesn’t get there, though. A loud bang from the door pulls him out of it. He can’t see, what is going on, but he can hear.

“James Nesbitt, you are under arrest!”

Someone grabs him around the middle, holding him up and removing some of the strain from his legs. The relief feels so good, a sob escapes Aidan’s mouth.

He can year yelling and someone is calling his name, but it all feels very distant. He only cares that there are more hands on him now and that they are cutting the rope. They lower him onto the ground very gently. “Stay with us, Aidan. Open your eyes,” some stranger tells him. He is shaken gently and then something warm and soft and smelling like Dean wraps around his head. He forces himself to open his eyes and finds his head cradled in Dean’s arms.

“How did you find me?” he manages to get out, his speech slightly slurred as if he had been drinking. Dean lets go of him just enough to look at him. There are tears in his eyes, but he is smiling.

“We tracked you phone,” he says, his voice choked with emotion. “You left the GPS on and we were able to track it.”

Aidan makes a tired “hm” sound at that and turns his head to the side. They have cut Iago down as well and he is lying next to Aidan on the ground.

“He’s breathing,” one of the medics says and Aidan closes his eyes again, relieved, before mercifully passing out again.


	16. Ach táim ar an mbealach ceart

He’s lucky. That’s what they tell him. He is lucky to have survived. Lucky to have been unconscious when the ligaments in his ankle and knee succumbed to the strain and tore. He’s lucky, they tell him after tests upon tests, that there is no permanent damage to his brain, his heart, his lungs and that there is a strong possibility that he will be able to walk without a limp, but that remains to be seen. 

“Of course I’m lucky. I’m Irish,” he replies every time with a little shrug like it’s nothing. He doesn’t feel it yet. Maybe it will come, when the pain subsides and he has time to fully process everything that has happened. The only thing he feels truly lucky about is having Dean at his side. Yes, he knows how cheesy that sounds, but it is the truth. Without him Aidan would have given up weeks ago.

He cradles Dean’s sleeping form closer and kisses the top of his head, very gently, as to not to disturb him. He knows that Dean has stayed up all night, lying next to him in that tiny hospital bed, watching over him and now it is his turn to get some rest.

Initially the hospital staff weren’t going to let Dean stay, but Aidan convinced them to make an exception. When the counsellor he briefly spoke with after the initial tests were done asked him how safe he felt on a scale of one to ten he replies truthfully. Two without Dean, seven with him and that settled it. He doesn’t think they would have gotten Dean out of his room without force anyway.

Aidan looks around the room restlessly. He has been placed a room by himself - given his story, no one was comfortable having him share a room with a bunch of strangers – and it is entirely too quiet. Even Dean’s deep breaths and the occasional voices and footsteps outside the door don’t help to make him feel less anxious. There is a ringing in his ears that is supposed to go away with time, but right now it makes him feel stressed and on edge. He wishes he could get out of bed, go for a smoke or do anything at all to distract himself from thinking. The more he tries to avoid the memories the more they are starting to flood his brain to the point where he feels like he has trouble breathing.

Just when Aidan thinks he needs to wake up Dean or get a nurse, a knock on the door pulls him out of the downward spiral.

“Come in,” he calls immediately just loud enough not to wake Dean, welcoming the distraction. Even though he has been expecting this visit at some point, he is still surprised to see a short, tired man with neatly cut ash blond hair poke his head around the door. “Detective Freeman.”

“Good morning,” Freeman says, “I hope I’m not intruding.” He steps into the room without awaiting an answer and advances to the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asks and seems to be genuinely interested. 

Sad. Angry. Empty. Scared. Bitter. Haunted. Sore. Miserable. A hot ,messy mixture of all of these?

“Relieved, I guess,” Aidan answers, trying to stay positive with his answer. Freeman nods slowly.

“I was wondering if you were prepared to make a statement. I know it’s terribly early, but the sooner we get everything sorted, the better.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Aidan replies, although he is feeling hesitant about it. He really doesn’t want to go through the entire thing again. But of course, Freeman has a point and Aidan thinks that it is for the best to get it out now, before he has a chance to overthink things and get them messed up and mixed up in his head. He looks down at his hand wrapped around Dean, his thumb stroking his arm absent minded, while Freeman pulls over a chair.

“Do you want a counsellor present for this?” 

Aidan shakes his head and Freeman gives him a passing smile. He seems a little off today, a little less sure of himself, a little uncomfortable to be around Aidan.

“Okay, let’s start by…”

“You made the arrest, didn’t you?” Aidan interrupts. He has been wondering about this for a while.

“I did.”

“But you’re Jimmy’s friend. That must have been hard.” He kind of needs to hear from another person that Jimmy wasn’t fundamentally bad. That he didn’t misjudge him so terribly. That something happened to him to make him do the things he did.

“I’m a policeman first,” Freeman replies seriously. He clears his throat and leans back in his chair. “I believe that my friendship with Jimmy has made me blind to some of the evidence. To some of his behaviour over the past few weeks. I keep thinking that I could have prevented this and I am truly sorry that I didn’t.”

“I didn’t see it coming at all,” Aidan says quietly, but at least now he knows why the Detective is so uncomfortable around him. It’s guilt. But how can Aidan blame him? He had sex with Jimmy just a few days ago and he didn’t really notice anything. How was a mate supposed to see it? “Why did he do it?”

“That is for the professionals to figure out,” Freeman replies but sighs in defeat when Aidan looks at him with pleading eyes. He needs some sort of explanation. “My guess is loneliness after his wife left him. Fear of being alone, maybe?” 

“Lots of people are lonely. Doesn’t mean they go around doing whatever the hell they please.”

“Maybe a lot more people would if they had Jimmy’s resources,” Freeman suggests. “Look, I am not trying to make excuses for him. Maybe he just liked the challenge of, well, hunting you. Maybe he has a brain tumour and is dying. Maybe there is no reason at all.”

Aidan doesn’t find Freeman’s answer very satisfying, but there is no point guessing. He just hopes that he will find out one day.

“Where is he now? What is happening to him?”

“He is in a mental health facility at the moment. We started the process of having him involuntarily committed, but if that fails, he will still be under arrest. You don’t have to worry. He won’t get a chance to come near you again. You or your friends.”

 

When he isn’t getting some form of therapy, there is always someone around to keep Aidan company, Dean, Adam, Graham. Ben and Richard stop by and some other colleagues. Aidan often finds himself expecting Jimmy to pop his head in, before he remembers that it is never going to happen. And if it did, it wouldn’t be a good thing. He _misses_ Jimmy, though, truly.

He is annoyed, though. Annoyed with himself for his mood swings. He often feels quite optimistic and eager for a fresh start, but then something happens that triggers a memory and makes him feel anxious and depressed. He is upset with the doctors who treat him like their own personal experiment. Apparently it doesn’t happen all that often that people get hung upside down for an extended period and they are enthusiastically observing any effects the ordeal might have had on him. Mostly, though, he is irritated at the fact that he isn’t allowed to do anything. His left leg is basically fucked, but they simply refuse to give him crutches and let him hobble around on his right leg, which is sore, but nowhere near as bad as the left one. They make him sit in a fucking wheelchair like an invalid and he hates every second of it, so he spends most of his time in bed, bored out of his mind until the day Dean steals a pair of crutches for him.

“You’re insane!” Aidan beams at Dean, when he presents his booty. “And I love that about you.” He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls Dean in for a kiss before he tries out his new gift. It hurts. It hurts to put all of his weight on his right leg and his left leg, strapped into braces, protests painfully, but the crutches mean a newfound freedom that is worth the ache.

“Let’s go somewhere. Let’s go outside!” Aidan hops around Dean in a small circle.

“You’re like a dog! I’m afraid you’ll come back with a tennis ball in your mouth if I let you out of my sight!” Dean laughs, but he agrees to run interference, should anyone try to stop Aidan. Giggling like two teenage girls, they leave the room and sneak down the hallway and towards the lift, when a nurse walking by looks at Aidan suspiciously.

“Go!” Dean whispers to him and then turns to the nurse. “Excuse me, I have some concerns…”, is the last thing Aidan hears, before the doors close. His heart is pounding and for the first time in weeks it’s not fear but excitement and he grins stupidly to himself. On another floor the doors open again to let a doctor and a man in a hospital gown in and Aidan just catches a glimpse of someone getting wheeled past the lift. He would recognise that sleek, black hair anywhere, so without giving it a second thought, he jams his crutch into the closing door and forces it to open again. He mumbles an apology to the other passengers and follows the wheelchair at a safe distance until it is pushed into a patient’s room.

Indecisive Aidan stays close to the room until the nurse with the wheelchair – now empty – emerges. He figures that now is a good a time as any, and once the nurse is out of sight, he knocks on the door gently before opening it.

Iago is sitting in bed, his upper body is supported by pillows, but his head is tilted to the side limply. There is an older lady sitting in the chair by his side. The resemblance between the two of them is so striking that Aidan concludes she must be his mother.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He is ready to make his retreat, but the woman looks at him with tearful, grey eyes that make it impossible to turn away.

“Are you a friend of Peter’s?”

“Uhm…” Aidan tries hard not to make a face at the thought of being friends with Iago. Luckily, she doesn’t wait for an answer.

“I’m so glad. I was afraid that he wouldn’t have any visitors. Bless you for coming.”

“Yeah, I, uhm… couldn’t come sooner.” He gestures towards his leg, to distract from his face. His discomfort to lie to Iago’s mother must be written all over his features. He looks at Iago again. He hasn’t moved at all since Aidan entered the room. His eyes are empty and there is some drool tickling from his mouth that his mother wipes away with a handkerchief. “So... how is, ah, Pete doing?”

“Well, you know?” she says. “The doctors said that he will not come out of this, uhm, vegetative state, but he came out of the coma only yesterday, so we’re not giving up, are we, Peter?”

It breaks Aidan’s heart to see Iago’s mother caring for her son so affectionately. He never thought of Iago as an actual human being with parents and friends.

“I’m very sorry,” he says awkwardly. He wishes there was something he could have done. He wishes he could have gotten Iago off that rope sooner, even if it had made no difference at that point, it would have made him feel better. “I… I have to go.” His leg feels like it is going to give out any second if he continues to stand on it and look at Iago. Look at what could have easily been him.

“Will you stop by again sometime?”

“I’ll try,” Aidan says, but he honestly isn’t sure if he can. Maybe, just maybe he is really, really incredibly lucky.

 

Hopping up the stairs to Ben and Richard’s office is a challenge and Aidan is entirely out of breath, once he’s reached the top. He is glad for it though, as it allows him to pretend that he isn’t flustered, just breathless.

Richard and Ben welcome him warmly as ever. They show him around the office first, which has changed a lot since Aidan has seen it last. They have added another room, which is now Ben and Richard’s office and placed a large desk in the front room.

“Are you getting a secretary?” Aidan asks only half joking. He knows that the agency is doing incredibly well and that Ben and Richard often struggle to keep up with the workload.

“Maybe. We’re still not quite sure what the job description is. But there are going to be some changes.”

“Speaking of which,” Richard takes over from Ben in his deep sexy voice that always gives Aidan goosebumps. Richard has always been his straight-guy crush. “I think we need to talk about some changes as well, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Aidan nods slowly and takes the seat on the sofa that is offered to him, unable to stand any longer. Ben and Richard asked Aidan to come today and he knows that they are going to kick him out. It is for the best, he has been telling himself that over and over. He still loves his job, but it would be months before he could go back to it again and a part of him is honestly ready to quit as well. He kind of started to enjoy the life away from sex – that doesn’t involve Dean - and clients and the vanity of the business. He started a cooking class, he is helping Adam and Graham with all kinds of stuff concerning their adoption and move to Scotland and he is getting a little more actively involved in a self-help group. He never would have thought that there are so many people like him out there who prefer to suffer in silence instead of getting help until it is almost too late. 

The only thing he surely doesn’t miss is the money, though. The small ESA payments he gets don’t even begin to cover his old lifestyle, but it is enough for the time being.

Still, regardless of how he feels about the job, it hurts to be cast aside. Damaged and useless. 

“Do you have any plans for the future?” Ben asks after pouring tea for them.

“You sound like my guidance counsellor at school.” And just like at school, Aidan has no idea what he wants to do. Is there a job that requires less knowledge and skill than prostitution for the same amount of money? Then sign him up for that. “I’m not sure yet. I was thinking to do some kind of office-work. See how that goes?” It sounds boring as hell, if he is being honest, but also safe. 

“That’s a good idea,” Richard says with a nod. “Of course, we would hate to see you go. It is rare to find someone with the same passion you had for the job.”

“Well, look where it got me.” Aidan fumbles with the Velcro on his leg-brace nervously. “And you’re doing so well, you don’t really need me anymore, anyway.”

“Well,” Richard pushes a plate of biscuits across the table towards Aidan. “Actually…”

 

Aidan sneaks up on Dean who is focussed on his painting and hugs him from behind.

“Careful!” Dean complains, but with laughter in his voice. “How did it go? How are Ben and Richard? Was it horrible?” Dean puts his paintbrush aside and turns around in Aidan’s arms. “Do you want me to make it better?” He bites his bottom lip seductively

“It wasn’t bad, honestly.” Aidan replies. “That doesn’t mean I’d say no to whatever you’re suggesting, though.”

“Tell me first and then I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Aidan sits down on the armrest of the couch and pulls Dean close. His hand travels down Dean’s back, following the curve of his spine. He looks up at him affectionately, before leaning his cheek against his chest. Dean’s heartbeat is strong and steady just like Dean himself. Just what Aidan needs.

“Ben and Richard are great. They’re doing really well. The agency is doing really well. They are thinking about opening offices in other cities.”

“That’s really good. I’m glad to hear it,” Dean says and Aidan wishes he would continue to talk. Listening to his voice vibrating in his chest is incredibly soothing.

“They offered me a job,” he mutters against Dean’s paint stained t-shirt.

“You already work for them.”

“No,” Aidan rolls his eyes. “An office job. In _their_ office.”

“What?” Dean takes a step away from Aidan to look at him and Aidan is barely able to contain his smile now. “What job? What do they expect?”

“Coffee?” Aidan shrugs his shoulders. “And doing paperwork. And making dinner reservations for them. But I think most of all they expect me to learn how they run their business. They said that if I do well they could see me running my own branch. Maybe an office in Dublin, even. And if I feel like it, I could still see clients. That’d be okay.”

“Aidan, that’s amazing!” Dean tilts Aidan’s head up and kisses him enthusiastically.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done any office work at all. I’ve never…” He stops, when he notices the scolding look Dean gives him. Self-confidence is something he is definitely going to have to work on, among so many other things. Even though therapy is helping him deal with the aftermath of the torture and everything that has happened, there are still days that completely suck. It is to be expected, is what everyone tells him, but that doesn’t mean that he has to like it.

“Don’t sell yourself short!”

“I wouldn’t make much money for a while. And we might have to move as well.”

“Irrelevant.” Dean grins happily. “I’m really proud of you. We should celebrate!” He kisses Aidan again and again, all over his face before moving his lips to his ear. “When do you think Graham and Adam will be back?”

“I don’t know. I can text them to see if they want to come out with us for a drink.”

“That’s not the kind of celebration I meant. Not for now,” Dean replies mischievously. “Remember the day after the wedding? Remember what you did to me?”

“How could I forget?” Aidan’s hand brushes over Dean’s bottom playfully, while thinking back to that first real night they spent together and the mind-blowing rim-job he gave Dean.

“Then I hope you remember as well, that I promised to do the same thing to you one day.” 

Aidan doesn’t need to say anything in response. He just lets his upper body fall backwards onto the couch, pulling Dean with him. He doesn’t even care that his leg is getting squashed painfully. He only cares about Dean in his arms and their happy, loving kisses.

Yeah. He’s lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, before you start sending hate-mail - I know you want to for my grammar and spelling alone - let me say that I adore Jimmy. It was such a tough decision to make him the bad guy, but I thought it worked for the story. 
> 
> There is absolutely no harm intended. It is just fiction!


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